


Vosian Wind

by ParadiseParrot



Series: Fledgling [4]
Category: Transformers - All Media Types, Transformers: Prime
Genre: Gen, Infertility, M/M, Mechpreg, Self-indulgent nonsense and setup, Spark birth, Sparklings, Sparkpreg, Transformer Sparklings, baby robots
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-26
Updated: 2017-07-29
Packaged: 2018-11-19 04:40:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 20,682
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11305872
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ParadiseParrot/pseuds/ParadiseParrot
Summary: Thundercracker and Skywarp go down a path with more turns than they planned. Cybertron is changing, and they'll change with it, good or bad.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hi folks! This is a four parter (it was supposed to be a short oneshot...) that's set in my Fledgling series, after the first major story and the following oneshots! You'll probably have better context if you read them, but it's up to you. It's important setup for the sequel that follows c:
> 
> Enjoy!

“So tell me your big news.”

Thundercracker made a show of looking at his hand, spread out in front of him. “I don’t know what you mean.”

On his holoscreen, Updraft grinned. “Come on. Skywarp was just here and he said you guys had a surprise.”

Thundercracker rolled his optics. Skywarp had picked up the call, and had made a big show of making sure Thundercracker took the holoscreen and stayed, even as he had to take off from the balcony and meet Starscream.

Well, both of them were supposed to have met Starscream, but Updraft could only call when the screening room at headquarters was free, and they were both home to see her. Skywarp had talked about buying one for Knock Out's place, but he'd never accept it. He could picture Updraft gently turning them down at the very idea.

He'd have to indulge her while he had her attention.

Thundercracker smiled. Without thinking about it, his hand rested over his spark chamber.

“We've decided to have our own sparklet,” he said.

Updraft's optics went wide. They went bright, and then her grin threatened to split her face in half.

“Really?” she said. “When? Are you guys carrying already? Do you have any name ideas? Are you telling me before you’re telling Starscream? This is _so_ exciting—“

Thundercracker chuckled. “It is. Starscream doesn’t know, we’re waiting till a spark takes. I’m thinking about names.”

And to think he’d worried that she would get jealous. Skywarp was right—she was a big Seeker, independent for longer than it seemed sometimes. She had been through enough to be well above petty jealousy.

Updraft’s optics sparkled. When she was excited, at least, she still looked like the kid who had tugged at his hands and been so pleased by his attention.

He was looking forward to having that again.

Of course, her optics narrowed into mischief. “So which of you is getting a spark planted on them?”

As she had no doubt expected, Thundercracker's plating flushed. “Well,” he started, wishing fervently she _was_ still little and he could step over this whole thing, “we’re planning on having it take to me. Skywarp is just leery enough about carriage that it’s better not to stress him out about it.”

Updraft softened her smile. Apparently, she was done teasing him. “I think you’re perfect for carrying. You’re not all excitable like the rest of us Vosians.”

Thundercracker quirked a brow. “I thought you stopped being a Vosian.”

She grinned. It was a sign of how much had changed—talk of how she had left no longer made Updraft’s wings twitch in discomfort. Being pleased with your life and your choices was helpful that way. Thundercracker envied that.

“You can’t take the Vos out of someone, no matter where you go,” she said. “My brother and sister think I’m vain. I’m no worse than Knock Out or the rest of you, though.”

Thundercracker did bristle a bit at the idea of that grounder being as Vosian as he or Updraft. But only a bit. Knock Out treated their Updraft like gold, and for her sake he had reached an understanding with Skywarp and Thundercracker. They’d spent a fair portion of their lives already doing what was best for her—it had only been an adjustment to do it with a bunch of rollers in mind.

Well, rollers and one _enormous_ bomber, who Thundercracker only remembered when he saw his face appear behind Updraft.

“Updraft?” he said. When he saw who his sister was talking to, his plating ruffled…in what Thundercracker had to admit was a very Seeker, Vosian manner.

Updraft leaned back. “One sec,” she called, before grinning again at Thundercracker. “Energon break over. And congrats.”

Thundercracker smiled. The flush was back, but he supposed he was embarrassed for a good cause.

“Thanks. Now you’d better get back to it.”

Updraft grinned, waved, and shut off the screen. He caught a bit of a the disapproval in Windjammer’s face before it flicked off, as he turned to go. Whatever. Thundercracker had every right to call the sparklet he’d help raise and share his good news. He turned towards the balcony, considering joining Skywarp in accompanying their trine leader.

They could wait, at least for a bit. A relaxed spark was one good at taking on a new one. So the literature claimed, anyway—there were more superstitions and dubious tips than he had ever expected, but maybe it was because most of this stuff was from other cities. It wasn't as if Vosians weren't superstitious about everything else.

Thundercracker smiled, resting one hand over his spark chamber. They hadn't been trying very long, and he had to believe it would happen soon. He wondered if he would feel it, but he'd have to wait for the doctor's confirmation. They had their next appointment soon—maybe it was there already, waiting to be found on the scanner. With the planet the way it was, he was looking forward to their little distraction.

* * *

 

“I feel like it should have taken by now,” Skywarp said. He was swinging his legs in the seat, looking like the sparklet they were supposed to be getting ready for. His expression was utterly too grown-up for Skywarp, though, brows furrowed in worry.

Thundercracker rubbed his thigh, wondering when the last time was that Skywarp's struts had been so stiff. “Maybe it has. That's why we're here, right?”

“Yeah,” Skywarp said, frowning. “I know. This worrying thing—you're better at it.”

Thundercracker snorted. “You've improved.”

“I just haven't felt right,” Skywarp confessed. “It was fun before, telling Updraft and all, but--”

“It's the nerves,” Thundercracker said, and meant it. “It's a big decision and—she's here.”

“Alright!” said the doctor cheerfully, shutting the door behind her. “It's been two months since your approval appointment, so here we are.”

Shakeup was cheerful, efficient, and had a little spark experience—most importantly, Starscream wasn't anywhere on her radar. Thundercracker preferred his doctors serious, but the roster of physicians certified for sparkwork was small. And someone who smiled easily might put Skywarp at ease.

“Here we are,” Thundercracker said, as the doctor set out her instruments. “My spark ground's been inactive for four months.”

“Good,” Shakeup said. She already had a diagnostic scanner out, in front of Thundercracker's frame. “It would need time to fully power down.”

“It would have taken by now, wouldn't it?” Skywarp said. “We just got started, but...”

Shakeup looked up, already switching scanners in her hands. “Did you read what I sent home with you our first meeting?”

Skywarp's wings relaxed, and he grinned. Thundercracker's spark pulsed relief. “A few big words too many, doc.”

Thundercracker tried to look apologetic, but Shakeup seemed undaunted. “Well, carriage happens very easily, once it's wanted,” she said. “Contraceptives are the default, but sparks want to give life. Have you been interfacing regularly?”

“Yes,” Thundercracker said. “A little more than usual, since the approval.”

He said it before he could be embarrassed. Shakeup nodded, looking satisfied. “Just what we like to hear. Now, an external scan shows nothing out of the ordinary, but it won't confirm a carriage. The more dedicated scan will just take a moment.”

He watched Skywarp fiddle with one of the pamphlets as the new, bigger scanner powered up, and rested gently against his spark chamber. “Any tickling feelings?” Shakeup asked him. “Twinges in the spark outside of the ordinary?”

“No,” he said. “Should I have them?”

“Oh, no,” she said. “Often, but certainly not always. Nothing out of...the ordinary...”

“What?” Skywarp said, right away. “What's wrong?”

Stiff wings were a giveaway on doctors, too. Shakeup's optics narrowed at her scanner, before she pulled it back.

“Nothing's wrong, exactly,” she said, after too long a moment. “I can say with certainty you're not carrying yet, but, would you mind stepping into the next room for a moment?”

As Skywarp started to stand up, to follow, Shakeup lifted her hand. “Wait here, please. I'd like to examine your conjux's spark, and this is simply a matter of policy.”

“I see his spark every night!” Skywarp snapped. Thundercracker heard the anxiety pitch his voice up, felt how it curled in his tanks. He reached out, quickly, and squeezed Skywarp's fingers with his own.

“It's an examination,” he said gently. “A delicate one. I'll be right back.”

He hated to see Skywarp's wings dip right down, but there was no other choice than to submit. It turned out that the room he'd followed Shakeup into was smaller, and darker, easier to view an open spark in and without much room for a partner to sit. Still, sitting in the chair, with the doctor standing over him, he wanted Skywarp's grin and flitting spark beside him.

“What seems to be the problem?” Thundercracker asked, trying to sound calm. He opened his spark chamber with a soft, familiar _snick,_ and figured he should get used to this, if he was going to carry. The red glow filled the room, in a way he was only used to seeing Skywarp illuminated.

Shakeup was off to one side, pulling gloves on. “Well, you're not _carrying_ at this moment,” she said. “And you told me you've never carried before, or attempted to.”

“Yes?” Thundercracker said, more softly. Shakeup bent down, optics narrowed and a small, thin scanner in hand. He wondered how many scanners he'd have to deal with before the whole thing was over.

“Well, the pulse rate I recorded is consistent with mechs who have carried before,” Shakeup said. All cheerfulness had gone from her demeanor. “I can find out why, with this examination. I'm going to place my fingers inside the chamber now.”

Thundercracker tried not to stiffen, but it was a sharp sensation. He bit back his pain as well as he could, and made no sound. The last thing they needed was this anxious version of Skywarp to barge in while a physician was fingers-deep in his life force.

It probably only took her minutes, but it felt much longer. When she was through, she stepped back, pulling her gloves off and not looking Thundercracker's way. Her cheerfulness was gone.

“So did you find out?” he asked her. She gave him what she must have considered an impartial doctor's glance.

“I need to go run some tests,” she said. “Can you wait ten minutes? With your conjux is fine.”

“Sure,” Thundercracker said. What else was there to say?

Skywarp was fiddling with tools he shouldn't have been touching, but he brushed Thundercracker's wing with his own as he sat back down.

“Just a few more minutes,” Thundercracker said. “Then we'll know.”

“I bet I could teleport,” Skywarp said. “Find out faster.”

“ _No,_ don't follow,” said Thundercracker firmly. “It's just ten minutes.”

“Ugh. I don't feel well.”

“You're nervy. I just had strange fingers in my spark—I think you'll be alright.”

Ten minutes became fifteen, then twenty, then over a half hour. Skywarp, leaning against him, felt a little warm to the touch, and Thundercracker wondered if it wasn't better that he hadn't ignited a spark just yet. Maybe he'd rushed into this, missing what they'd had when Updraft was small. Skywarp was obviously not ready for such a responsibility.

When the doctor returned, she closed the door quietly. In her hands was a datapad, which she activated a holoscreen on.

“Sorry for the wait,” she said. “I wanted to be very sure.”

“If he's not alright--” Skywarp started.

“Thundercracker is fine,” Shakeup said. “Superficially there's no indication of a problem, which is why our preliminary scans last month sent you home with a clean bill of health.”

“Superficially,” Thundercracker repeated. “So there is something.”

“Yes,” Shakeup said quietly. “This is a full scan of your spark chamber. Do you see the marks on either side of your spark, right here?”

Thundercracker squinted, but he could see them. They looked as if someone had scorched the inside of his body. How had those gone unnoticed by him and Skywarp?

“Are they very big?” he asked. Shakeup shook her head.

“No, it takes a scan to confirm them,” she said. “Irregularities inside the chamber aren't uncommon as a spark matures, but these are unique. When a spark is ignited, it leaves a mark, like so. A spark brought to term leaves almost a groove.” To show what she meant, another image, of someone else, came up quickly, and Thundercracker could see how deep the scorch mark had gone. Then it was back to his own.

It took him a moment to fully understand what she was telling them. And his spark, the one they were all looking at on the screen, twisted painfully, like someone had squeezed it.

“These are just little marks,” Skywarp said quietly. Thundercracker got a message over the comm. _It'll be okay. It'll work out._

“Yes,” Shakeup said. “The two faded off are very old, probably from when you were younger. These most recent ones are since the ground came off.”

Thundercracker hadn't realized he was touching his spark chamber until Skywarp's hand gently took his, and brought it back down to his side. He swallowed.

“I've had a spark ground all my life, though,” Thundercracker said. The thin, unobtrusive cover was something you were given after you were forged, after all. “You're not saying I failed to ignite _four_ times.”

Shakeup's voice was gentle. “No, I'm not. You did ignite, but the newsparks couldn't take hold for longer than a week or two. It's not uncommon for a mech to have one in their lifetime, but four is quite unusual. Especially with you taking that supplement and actively trying for one now.”

“So I should have conceived by now,” Thundercracker said quietly. “Is what you're saying.”

Shakeup sighed. “Well, you did,” she said, still gentle. “The reason I ran the extra tests was to confirm why things didn't go well. Unfortunately, I'm not sure the way your spark is made up is...conducive to carriage. They're aborting at a vital stage, as it simply can't keep a hold.”

Skywarp squeezed his hand, and Thundercracker felt _anger._ At Shakeup, because she hadn't found out sooner. At _Starscream,_ who would never understand he was feeling pain, carrier or not, but who had carried a healthy sparklet he didn't deserve all the same.

And at himself, for having a broken, weakened life force.

“I'll be running more tests from the scans,” Shakeup said. He didn't really hear her. “I'm sure of the problem, but I'd like to find out what it is that's causing it...”

He would have tuned her out anyway, but then Skywarp tensed. Thundercracker gripped his hand, and then Shakeup looked over in surprise.

“Are you alright?” she asked. “I understand this is a lot of news to take in.”

Skywarp actually doubled over, and shuddered, and Thundercracker's spark twisted.

“Oh, this all sucks too,” Skywarp said. “But I just...don't feel well. My spark's been twisting all week.”

“Why didn't you tell me?” Thundercracker said, even as Shakeup was reaching for a scanner. “Especially since we had this appointment?”

“This is for _you,_ ” Skywarp said, his teeth gritted. “Sorry, TC.”

Shakeup's expression was impassive as the scan came back. Without a word, she left the room again, and Thundercracker felt an unnatural urge to pull her ailerons off. It was only a couple of minutes before she returned, her brows deeply furrowed. Without a word, she handed Thundercracker a sheet, then turned away to turn the energon dispenser on.

Thundercracker stared. The sheet was translucent, and a sparkpulse had been mapped out on it. The name at the bottom revealed whose it was, the spark he was most familiar with, whose pulse he could count out in his sleep.

And entwined with Skywarp's red line, on a rapid, jagged pink one, was a second pulse.

Thundercracker tried to understand this, before looking up at the doctor. Shakeup was giving Skywarp a cube of something medical grade, but she met Thundercracker's gaze. And smiled, in the gentlest way she could.

“I'm afraid you'll never carry to term, Thundercracker,” she said. “The tests I'm sending for are just a confirmation. But you're about to be a sire.”

Skywarp's stare was wide-eyed and frightened. Thundercracker wondered just what it was he was meant to feel.

* * *

 

“I’m gonna visit Vos,” Updraft said. She vented in fast and opened her mouth, before Breakdown could protest. “They really need me.”

“They don’t, my girl,” Breakdown said. “Whatever it is, it’s not safe to travel that far. Call 'em.”

“Skywarp’s carrying, Breakdown,” Updraft said. He paused, and as expected, Uppercut poked her head out of the dispensary room. “He didn’t plan on it, and he’s really, _really_ anxious about the whole thing. I’ll take a reputable shuttle.”

“Oh, I know you will,” he said. “Nothing Swindle recommends you, for any reason. They’re still being shot down.”

“I’m going,” she said. “I know the risks. And he'll feel better if I spend a week with them.”

They claimed that the terrorist attacks were extremist interference, but the Senate floor was closed whenever they were discussed. With the Clampdown, Updraft and Windjammer hadn’t ruled out _government interference._ But they were just minor officers, after all.

Breakdown sighed. “Enjoy telling your sire, then.”

“Did they mention their doctor?” Uppercut asked. Updraft shrugged.

“Some Seeker, I guess,” she said, and grinned. “Why, looking for more patients?”

“Well, maybe,” Uppercut said, her lip twitching. “Seekers and sleek mechs like that are high-risk carriers. You’ve got hollow struts and small spark chambers, _and_ you get overheated so fast.”

“You need a clinic first,” Breakdown said. He smiled, standing up to squeeze past Uppercut in the doorway. He patted the wheel on her shoulder as he passed. “Anyway, you wouldn’t be able to visit Vos. Keep putting bricks on what you’re building here.”

He headed into the workshop, and Updraft looked at her sister. Uppercut shrugged.

“Have fun telling Dad you’re going,” she said. Updraft cracked a grin.

“I’ll get a government pass if that makes him feel better,” she said. “Or Dreadwing, if he’s not working. I could hire him.”

Uppercut smiled. “It won’t,” she said. “Even if you’re right, it’s pretty unlikely you’d be hurt on a legal trip. Honestly, Skywarp should come to Iacon. I was taught by some excellent spark specialists.”

“You’re a spark specialist,” Updraft said, grinning. Her sister’s faceplates flushed. “Since the Zeta incident, at least.”

Uppercut waved her hand, but Updraft could tell she was pleased. “Right place, right time. Anyway, he might get over his anxiety. He'll be happy to see you.”

She wondered if news like Zeta's medical miracle traveled to Vos, but the city was insular. Certainly medical journals had interviewed her sister, but so far the jury was out on how a young doctor had remolded a dying spark with her _bare hands._ Updraft had already decided on unmatched skill, herself.

In any case, that wouldn’t happen to Skywarp. Zeta and his newspark were healthy enough, and what had happened to them had been unpredictable.

Knock Out _did_ get upset about Updraft’s travel plans. He fussed, and fretted, and asked her repeatedly to reconsider. But they both knew he wouldn’t interfere with her freedom of movement, so Updraft boarded a shuttle to Vos for the first time since she’d left it.

Dreadwing hadn’t been available, but he wished her luck. Updraft suspected that his work was for Megatronus, though he spoke more often to her about education than rebellion. It seemed his new boss, whoever he was, wanted his lieutenants versed in what would otherwise be unavailable.

_Perhaps they’ll need a guard for their sparklet in a few years,_ he told her over comm. Updraft grinned at the thought. _They’re well aware I am qualified._

Thundercracker, and no one else, was there to meet her. She had genuinely worried he would bring Starscream, but there was only a familiar blue Seeker on the platform, grinning in a way that would make Skywarp proud.

“Starscream’s out of town,” he said, as they approached the take-off platform. “We haven’t seen him since we let him know, thank Primus.”

“Well, he’s always been one for surprises,” Updraft said. It _was_ nice, to take off in Vos again and fly with another Vosian. _How's he doing?_

_He started having panic attacks this week. Sort of—they're fits. But he was sleeping when I left him._

Panic attacks were not what she associated with Skywarp. She and Thundercracker banked, towards their buildings, and she was pleased to see how effortlessly she followed him.

_Guess you did learn out there_ , he said, and Updraft’s spark soared.

“You’re doing okay?” she asked as they touched down. Thundercracker stroked her helm with his hand.

“I’ll manage,” he said. “It does…hurt. But either way, I’m going to be a parent.”

His optics were sad. It went without saying, if you asked Updraft, he’d been one for years already. (Despite one big hiccup, one she'd long forgiven him for.) But he’d been so excited to carry his own spark.

The apartment was the same. Updraft didn’t expect the wave of nostalgia that hit her, when she saw the same counter, the same holoscreen, the same wide back window.

“We’re making the other room up for when it’s older,” he said. “You can use it for now, though. Skywarp? Are you up?”

“Where will Starscream recharge when he barges in?” Updraft asked mischievously. Thundercracker’s mouth twitched.

“The couch,” he said. Updraft grinned.

She had been filling energon cubes when she heard Thundercracker yell, and his feet scrabbling on the ground.

Updraft could hear Skywarp’s voice, muffled, and just about jetted into the room to find him shuddering next to the berth. Thundercracker’s wings shook out a terrified pattern right along with him.

“This is the worst one yet,” he said. When he looked up, his optics were bright and wild. Updraft, in a flood, remembered the Iacon attack from her childhood, full of injured, and Thundercracker’s fear as Skywarp wasn’t among them. “Call an ambulance.”

Updraft did, and fast. They wouldn’t lose this wanted spark because _she_ panicked _,_ too.

* * *

 

“He hasn’t reabsorbed,” Shakeup said. Thundercracker’s relief was palpable, and Updraft’s wings shivered with relief. In her hands she held the latest scan of Skywarp and the newspark, and the ragged pulse wouldn't go unnoticed by anyone.

“So he’ll be okay?” Thundercracker said. The doctor nodded, but it was clear from her face that it wouldn’t be that easy.

“There are a number of reasons anxiety can manifest during carriage,” Shakeup said. “Where the spark took on the parent, underlying issues…the trouble is sedatives are very dangerous for newsparks.”

“So how do we stop the attacks, then?” Thundercracker asked. Updraft tensed, ready to intervene if his impatience became more than a note. “How do I help him?”

“Iacon,” Shakeup started, “has more experience, and a sparklet-geared hospital where—“

“Skywarp won’t want it born up there,” Thundercracker said. “He’ll want it born in Vos, and fliers taking care of him.”

“If you want it _born,_ and for the problem to be sorted out, he should go to Iacon,” Shakeup said firmly. “You mentioned our first appointment that you had…family? In Iacon?”

“Me,” Updraft said. “I came back to visit.”

“It’s not safe to travel,” Thundercracker protested.

“I see your friend is Elite Guard, and Vosian security can be arranged,” Shakeup said. “I’ve delivered many sparks, but I’ve never had a carrier so anxious and affected as your conjux. Please seriously consider this with him. One moment.”

As soon as she left the room, Thundercracker slumped. He looked a little like he had when they’d fallen out, a memory Updraft had been anxious not to uncover. “Maybe this wasn’t meant to be,” he said, very quietly.

Updraft stood up, her optics flashing. “Your doctor just _told_ you how to make this meant to be,” she said. She waved the scan in front of his face, so he could see his offspring. “You have an apartment there! Starscream won’t be able to come, because he’s busy here.”

“Yeah, and he’ll blow a gasket when we leave for a year without him! He's—“

“Trine, yeah, and he’s a big slag eater,” Updraft snapped. “Trine doesn’t mean you can’t go somewhere with your conjux. Anyway,” she said, hands on her hips. “It’s Skywarp’s decision.”

Thundercracker groaned. He pinched the bridge of his nose, giving Updraft a long look. “You’re a brat. It’s still dangerous.”

“So was me visiting, and so is staying here,” Updraft said. “The attacks could start in Vos, too.”

Thundercracker’s mouth twitched. “Please, there’s no war in Vos. That’s the last of my worries.”

Shakeup appeared then, a datapad in hand. “It looks like Skywarp is waking back up,” she said. “I guess abrupt recharge is not the worst symptom after an attack like that.” She held the datapad out to Thundercracker. “This is a list of recommended sparkologists in the Iacon area. All have flier experience in some degree.”

Thundercracker grit his denta, as Updraft raised a brow. “I’ll…have to discuss it with Skywarp,” he said. “Thank you, doctor.”

He took a peek at the list…and paused, looking visibly alarmed. Updraft leaned forward, trying to get a look. Thundercracker looked mortally offended.

“Your friend's on this,” he said flatly. “Uppercut.”

Updraft’s wings perked up. Instantly, Shakeup brightened.

“Uppercut of Rodion, yes!” she said. “She works at Iacon Memorial currently, in that newspark unit I mentioned, but no doubt she’ll have a clinic of her own soon.”

Thundercracker jerked a thumb Updraft’s way. “She’s this one's age,” he said. “Young. I need to see Skywarp, before he gets upset again—“

“Uppercut saved Senator Zeta's life,” Updraft blurted out. Thundercracker looked at her blankly, as Shakeup nodded enthusiastically. “And his sparklet's. Every other doctor said it couldn’t be done.”

“She came highly recommended,” Shakeup said enthusiastically. “I could go into the specifics, though a lot of it is medical jargon, but I can assure you she worked a miracle. She’s worked smaller ones since.”

Thundercracker looked unconvinced, but Updraft’s whole being had lifted. Skywarp knew Uppercut, though not as well as Updraft. She might have been young, but she had a reputation, however new. Skywarp would know she was as gentle as a cyberkitten when she needed to be.

“Well, let's go talk about it,” she said cheerfully. Thundercracker, they all knew, had no option but to agree.

“Didn’t get much of a hello yet, did you?” Skywarp said, grinning. He was on his back, on the kind of medberth that had slots cut in the back for wings. “Sorry, Updraft.”

It was a little awkward, to get her arms around him. “Nothing like coming home and calling the ambulance,” she said cheerfully. “You’ll make your spark all worked up, going like this.”

Thundercracker was already squeezing Skywarp's hand, in a grip Updraft suspected hurt. Skywarp turned his grin on him. “What’d she say, TC? Do I get some pills, or what?”

He seemed fine now, but maybe the stress came and went. Thundercracker cleared his vocalizer.

“She thinks you’ll be better off in Iacon,” he said. “With more specialized doctors.”

Skywarp’s face fell. “I can’t be that bad,” he said, more quietly. “Just a little freaked out. It’ll pass.”

“I agree with the doctor,” Updraft said quietly. “This isn’t just a little freaked out.”

“Carriage-based spark seizures,” Thundercracker said wearily. “You were already nervous, and it’s manifesting in a dangerous way.”

“It wouldn’t be born in Vos,” Skywarp said quietly. “Starscream won’t—“

“Starscream didn’t sire it!” Updraft said impatiently. They both stared at her, and she sighed. “It’s not up to me. But I think it’ll be okay if you go.”

“Shakeup wants Updraft’s sister to treat you,” Thundercracker said. “But she's just Updraft’s age.”

Skywarp frowned. His claws clicked quietly against Thundercracker’s arm, optics flickering as he thought on it.

“Your sister's a good doctor, Updraft?” he asked.

Updraft grinned. “I go to her now, and I have no complaints. But she’s _really_ talented with sparks. Shakeup says you’ll be in good hands.”

Iacon had quite a few more sparklets than Vos (relative still, of course, to the majority of forged and constructed cold mechs). Uppercut had gotten to see many of them extracted during her studies, though Updraft wasn’t sure that would convince Thundercracker.

Skywarp sighed. “Maybe it won’t be the whole time,” he said finally. “If she’s good like you say, maybe she can fix me. Make me believe I can do this, right?”

“Of course you can do it,” Thundercracker said quickly. “Your frame even knows it. It shut off your teleporter to keep your spark safe.”

“Really?” Updraft gasped, even as Skywarp grinned crookedly.

“Yeah,” he said. “I haven’t forgiven it. TC, make sure the doctor gets a transfer in writing. I’ll wave it in front of Starscream’s face when his optics pop out of his head.”

Thundercracker smiled, but it was clear his spark wasn’t in it. Updraft hoped he would come around, because if he believed in this it would relax Skywarp too.

“…We’re going to lease our own place,” he said finally. Updraft’s spark pulsed with relief. “I don’t want to depend on Starscream’s.”

“Close to Rodion,” Updraft said. “Skywarp misses playing games with someone who's _good,_ I bet.”

Skywarp laughed, and Thundercracker scowled (even if his spark clearly wasn't in it). Updraft decided she’d done her best.

* * *

 

Updraft stayed five days, all the vacation she could scrape. Thundercracker couldn’t be prouder, considering she had chosen to leave Vos—even Vosian-trained fliers didn’t become officers that quickly. Of course, it meant she was busy. Thundercracker wondered if they would need to leave at all, if Updraft had still lived nearby. She made Skywarp laugh, picked up sweets for him, and kept him company when Thundercracker had to see to business. She also cleaned the dispensary area top to bottom, a habit she must have picked up from Knock Out. He _was_ a decent mech, for a roller. (And he certainly hadn’t left vanity behind in Vos.)

She couldn’t stay until they were leaving, which is what Thundercracker had hoped her. Still, she impressed him when she visited the local Elite Guard one morning. She came back looking pleased, an admittedly Starscream expression on her face.

“I got you an official escort since I can't be here,” she said. “Just in the case the Clampdown is still making you nervous. A Vosian trine, very professional.”

“Did you bribe them?” Skywarp asked. He sounded impressed. The paperwork for a escort right now, even for their caste, was daunting.

Updraft grinned. “Of course not. My brother works in records, I just called him and he sent the right papers. That's my first baby gift to you.”

“Can't your brother punch through buildings or something?” Skywarp said. He stretched out on the couch, grinning. “Why's he at a desk job?”

“Because he did construction for years, and he's sick of heavy lifting,” she said. “He still patrols. And he's good at what he does—there's a lot of security clearance for him I can't dream of yet.”

“I'll call it his gift to us, then,” Skywarp said. He leaned back, optics flickering. “Primus, do you think Starscream wanted to nap this much when he carried?”

“So nap,” Thundercracker said. He rubbed between Skywarp's brows, affection rising in his spark.

“But Updraft's leaving tomorrow!” he whined. Now _that_ was Starscreamy

“You'll see me again in a few weeks,” she said, grinning. “And I'll be around as much as I can, to beat off that anxiety.”

Thundercracker believed she could do it, too. Fearless in the face of the Clampdown, or the situation at hand, so close to Starscream again, Updraft was doing well. He thought of the first time he'd met her, and told himself, again, that their newspark would never be dirty, or lonely, or afraid. They would be wanted.

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Skywarp's carriage progresses, despite hiccups.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, this WAS going to stay a two-parter, but I think the last of it will be minimum another 2500 words, so I split it again! Really enjoying exploring this relationship more closely in this fic!
> 
> Thanks for reading and commenting <3

Thundercracker had taken to listening to Skywarp’s spark.

At first it had been the same comforting hum as always. Sometimes with too rapid a pulse, if Skywarp was nervous. On the way to Iacon, the noise had changed, a vibration just a bit louder and a little more inconsistent. Skywarp was tense—of course he’d felt it first—but Thundercracker wondered if his own spark would burst from joy. It might have burst from sadness too, but he pushed that underneath.

He’d be as good a sire as a carrier, and the difference couldn’t be so much.

“That means the new spark is in the next stage,” he told Skywarp, leaning against his side. “You’ll be less tired, but need more energy.”

Skywarp had looked at him nervously. “Are you a doctor now, too?”

Thundercracker flicked him, gently, on the shoulder. “I read the pamphlets. You’re right on schedule.”

“Mmph. Maybe I should get around to those,” Skywarp said, optics dimming.

Starscream hadn’t been happy, but they hadn’t expected him to be. They'd expected him to be apoplectic, actually, and he hadn’t disappointed, slamming their door in disgust and refusing to answer calls. It still hurt, despite Thundercracker’s best efforts for it not to. They were supposed to be three, after all.

It was a relief, too. Not worrying about Starscream would mean Skywarp could rest, and Updraft could visit them in peace. There would be no babysitting their trine leader at parties, and limited work. Still, he expected files about Senate meetings and the Fleet any day, and just hoped that day was further away than he thought.

The place they leased was small (Iacon housing), but high up, in a quality building. The balcony was harder to take off from than the one at home, but Thundercracker couldn’t expect grounded builders to understand.

Most importantly, Iacon Memorial was just down the street, and the spark doctors did house calls.

“You’re really in the perfect place,” Uppercut said, laying out her tools. Thundercracker had answered the door, and almost forgotten just how big Updraft’s sister was. Still, she was friendly enough, and Thundercracker reminded himself to trust Updraft. “With the history of spark seizures this carriage, it’s better to be safe about it. If you feel one coming on, you can call me.”

“And if you’re not on call?” Thundercracker asked. He watched her set a small, flat instrument against Skywarp’s chest. Uppercut typed something into itcarefully before she looked back up,

“A colleague is always on call,” she said. “A nurse is qualified to administer spark relaxants, but a doctor is available short of emergencies.”

“I hear there’s a curfew in Iacon,” Skywarp said. “Also, ow, this stings. Why does it _sting_?”

Uppercut grinned. “It presses into your paint, sorry. I’m measuring baby’s placement. Also, medical personnel are curfew-exempt. The Prime's chief medical officer put his foot down about that.”

Skywarp pouted visibly. “My _paint?_ ”

“Oh, it’ll buff right out,” she said. “My sire's in aesthetics, remember? No unnecessary damage. I’m going to have a listen now.”

Uppercut could have picked up and thrown Skywarp effortlessly. But Thundercracker was watching closely, and knew control when he saw it. Her hands barely pressed where they rested as she leaned down, putting her audial to Skywarp’s spark. She smiled, more softly.

“Wonderful,” she said. “Already a lovely hum, sir. I’ll need to build the scan in my office, but I suspect it’s attached right on the back of your spark. That’s why you’re in some discomfort.”

“Just Skywarp is fine,” he said. His wings had relaxed. “You know me outside this.”

Thundercracker’s spark twisted, and at first he couldn’t even place why. She was entirely capable, from what he could tell of this first visit. Updraft trusted her immensely, and Skywarp was visibly at ease. His optics narrowed.

“I’m sure you’ll show us the proper respect,” he said, with just a sliver of ice. Skywarp frowned, but Uppercut only paused for a second.

“Of course,” she said. It hadn’t rattled her, and Thundercracker couldn’t even place why he was annoyed. “My patients range from the top of Class 2 of the taxonomy, to the Primal entourage. I can assure you I’ll do my very best to make your conjux feel cared for. And to do my job, of course.”

She smiled, but her optics were guarded. For the rest of her visit, she focused on Skywarp, explaining how recharging on his left side, rather than right, would be ideal for comfort in his condition. She took an energon sample, so gently that Skywarp hardly flinched.

“I understand from your charts that your last doctor wanted you grounded,” she said. “That’s surprising from a Vosian. Gentle exercise lowers anxiety, and is good for your spark.”

“She didn’t want us knocked around,” Skywarp said, shifting uncomfortably. “And I think I’d feel more worked up if I had to be jetting around.”

Skywarp carefully avoided the word “anxiety,” and had since Vos, because it embarrassed him. He liked being easygoing, and independent—particularly, independent of hospitals or medical personnel, because he’d never had a good experience in one.

That was why all this was so off-plan.

And, he’d confessed to Thundercracker once, being an outlier didn’t help. Doctors liked to prod.

“I think on good days, you’d benefit from easy flights,” she said. “We all get a little stir-crazy if we don’t transform regularly. I'd recommend it a couple of times a week, at minimum.”

“That feels like too much,” Thundercracker said. “What if he fits mid-flight?”

“Well, I’d rather he not go alone,” she said. She smiled. “My sister’s pretty encouraging when she wants to be. I’m sure if you can’t fly with your conjux, she’d be happy to join you.”

“She’d be happy to show off,” Skywarp said, grinning. “I’ll see, Doc. You’ve been pretty good, for a roller.”

“I’m only doing my job,” Uppercut said. Skywarp looked at Thundercracker expectantly, and frowned when he only offered a shrug.

“If that’ll be all, doctor,” he said. Uppercut closed her toolkit.

“I’ll be back same time next week,” she said. She addressed Skywarp, optics off Thundercracker and his frown. “I’ll bring your test results, and the start of your supplement regimen. So far, though, things look and sound just fine. We'll continue with resting and gentle exercise.”

Skywarp didn’t start in on him until she was out the door, and down the hall.

“What’s your problem?” he asked, shifting onto his side and reaching for the holoscreen remote. “You know she’s gonna go back to Rodion and tell Updraft you were rude.”

“I wasn’t _rude,_ ” Thundercracker protested. He ignored the sour curl in his spark as he stood up, heading for the dispenser. He tried not to hold his wings too high. “I was completely professional.”

“You were rude,” Skywarp said. “I like her. I trust her, actually.”

“She’s your doctor, not your friend,” Thundercracker said. “And I’m not sure I do. I’m not sure I want you flying.”

“I’ll feel better, though,” Skywarp said. “I really think I will. And if you’re gonna be a grump, I’ll invite Updraft.”

“Maybe you’re not taking this seriously,” Thundercracker snapped. He rounded on Skywarp, knowing he was almost snarling, and a faraway version of him wondering just what he was so angry about. “You’re carrying a life inside you. Seekers are already high-risk carriers, we're small and we have hollow struts, and you want to just—jet around? Dislodge your newspark?”

“TC—“

“And your fits,” he said. “They’re not just your anxiety, and I read up on how the placement of the newspark can affect how the parent spark acts, and yours is in the worst place possible—“

“ _TC—_ “

“You need to take this _seriously,_ more serious than anything we’ve ever dealt with before, _even_ finding Updraft how we did. Even if she’s a good doctor, and I guess she is, it could dislodge! You might not even feel it, and all you’d be left with is a little mark we can’t even see—“

“ _Thundercracker!”_

Skywarp said it sharply. He flared out his wings as he said it, and finally, he paused. “You’re shaking.”

That rattling couldn’t be him, when only newbuilt's wings quaked in their joints like that. Skywarp's optics were bright with alarm, and for a moment Thundercracker wondered if he’d been stupid enough to bring on an attack.

“Thundercracker,” Skywarp said again, more quietly. His full name was a bad sign. “I’m really sorry. I know how hard this is for you.”

“For me?” Thundercracker said, almost sputtering. “It’s not _me_ we should worry about.”

Skywarp stood up, and strode across the room. Slowly, he pressed one palm over Thundercracker’s spark chamber. For all the times he wished Skywarp could sit still, or be _serious_ for once, it was never quite right when he was.

“You’ve been good at hiding it, but I know you’re hurting,” Skywarp said. “ _You_ wanted to carry the spark. And don’t say it was because I was nervous, because I’m smarter than I look.” Skywarp took Thundercracker’s hand in his free one, and folded his thumb against the palm. The other four fingers he pressed over his spark chamber.

He felt those four little marks, newsparks faded out, burn inside him.

“It’s okay to hurt,” Skywarp said. “And be angry, that it can’t be you. No one deserves it more—especially between the three of us.”

“Are you feeling okay?” Thundercracker asked weakly. “You’re as serious as a Prime.”

Skywarp smiled. “You know me better than anyone, TC. I’m not all jokes.” He took Thundercracker's hand in his, squeezing his fingers. “There’s a sliver of a dead serious mech in me, more stern than you. He wants you to treat the doctor with respect as long as she’s my doctor.”

Thundercracker squeezed back. Then reached out, to pull Skywarp in close and feel the hum of his spark against his.

“You’re right,” he said. He kissed Skywarp’s temple, the spot that made him shrink back and grin without fail. “I’m sorry I was rude. Shakeup was good too, but I think Uppercut will be perfect.”

Skywarp leaned forward, to press their foreheads together. Maybe they ought to be cuddly more often, when it made his whole frame hum with warm delight, and interface had nothing to do with it.

“You’re going to be a great sire,” he said. “Not just from reading all that stuff, either. You were one to Updraft already.”

Thundercracker kissed him. It made him think of stealing those in the hallways at the Academy, when Starscream couldn't see—and then, when he caught them and said he didn't care, behind him in their dorm. Skywarp sighed, pressing his hands to the sides of Thundercracker's face as they pulled apart.

“Let's go for a fly,” he said. “Then we'll sit, and watch something dumb.”

Thundercracker smiled. “Whatever the carrier wants.”

It still hurt—and he figured it would keep hurting a lot—but he would manage. He had to.

* * *

 

Uppercut came just as promised, and Thundercracker behaved. Skywarp started his first round of supplements, and he had to sigh as his conjux scowled, making an effort to swallow.

“They're all vile,” Uppercut said cheerfully. “I brought some sweeteners, too. Updraft said you like mercury and silver flavours.”

Thundercracker snuck a sniff at one of the bottles, and saw instantly why Skywarp would want to cover it up.

“And this is just the start?” Skywarp moaned, flopping back. Uppercut smiled.

“Afraid so,” she said. “You'll be on about a dozen different things by your last month, but for now you're not too bad.”

“I'd rather use an injector,” Skywarp said. Thundercracker rubbed between his brows affectionately, watching Uppercut take her readings.

“If Starscream could do it, so can you,” he said. “I know you're tougher than _that._ ”

Their doctor turned away, but Thundercracker swore he saw her grinning wider. She had turned out to be right about the regular flights, and Skywarp's anxious moments became fewer and farther between. Iacon's airspace was less crowded, and few flew as high as they did (which was low, for them, usually just above cloud cover). Updraft often joined them, and showed off her fancy wingwork whenever she could.

_Stop teasing me!_ Skywarp would exclaim, speeding up—though not too much. _I can't fly that fast any more!_

_You'd better not,_ Updraft would say, as she spun her turbines. _I'll tell my sister._

They tried to get their flying done in the early morning, or afternoon. To avoid the traffic, and the Clampdown curfew. As Thundercracker had always liked night flights, under the stars, he tried not to be too put out about that.

“It's the Decepticons,” Updraft explained. “The Senate claims they're responsible for the terrorist attacks recently.”

“You're in the guard,” Skywarp said. “Are they?”

She shook her head, but Thundercracker could tell by the tilt of her wings that she wasn't sure, either. “Most of the investigations are inconclusive,” she said. Leaning forward, as if someone would hear them, her voice went conspiratorial. “There were a few murders of important mechs, who were found to be Decepticon sympathizers. So it can't be as easy as that.”

Thundercracker suspected that Updraft herself was a Decepticon sympathizer, given how deeply she cared for the lower-caste mechs she called family. She certainly wasn’t one out loud—it was rare she spoke of the situation.

Starscream, and Vosian senators, had spoken of the Clampdown occasionally, but Thundercracker had other things on his mind. Skywarp certainly didn't care, and seemed sure it would all blow over.

“Just enjoy our vacation and sleep in,” he said more than once, curled up close to Thundercracker in their sunny berthroom. “They'll sort it out before kiddo's upgrade.”

Skywarp had started calling his newspark “kiddo,” on good days. On bad days—less frequent, but still fairly regular—he called it nothing at all, and tried to recharge. Still, there were no fits, no reason to panic. Thundercracker began to leave out good energon for Uppercut when she came by, and a candy or two. Updraft was thrilled that her plan was working out.

It was a few months before things got hard.

Thundercracker's first instinct when he heard the roar, and glass shattering, was to cover Skywarp, nose in his neck and hands over his spark. Skywarp sat up like a shot, knocking his conjux aside.

“Sorry!” he said, too loudly. “Sorry, my audials are _ringing—“_

There were screams from the ground, and Thundercracker knew right away this was another attack. The last time, years ago, he’d been on ground level too, thrown and disoriented without comms. He had panicked, without Skywarp or Updraft in sight, but Starscream had hauled him to his feet and barked orders. Thundercracker, never a leader, had been relieved to listen.

Now was different. Skywarp was here, next to him, and he knew he was alive. Updraft was probably at home—and if she wasn’t, she was certainly better able to care for herself.

But Skywarp had been, too. Instinctively, Thundercracker took his hand.

There _was_ a tremor. And his comm, like last time, fizzled out. There would be no doctor to call.

So Thundercracker did what was needed.

“Up,” he said to Skywarp, reaching around him and pulling him off the berth. Skywarp was unsteady on his feet, and Thundercracker's spark lurched.

“What?” Skywarp said. “Where are we supposed to go? I dunno if I can fly, TC—“

“We’re not flying,” Thundercracker said. “There’s only window damage. We’re just going to the front room.”

To his relief, the blast, or whatever it was, had only broken the windows facing west. The north side was only cracked, so Thundercracker walked Skywarp to the couch, and gently sat him down. His conjux's wings twitched.

“I _can_ walk,” he said. Still, his voice quavered, because he’d remembering the last time too, and that he was vulnerable now.

Thundercracker said nothing, pulling a small cube from the cache rather than pouring a fresh one. Who knew what might have happened to the pipes? Uppercut had left the supplement instructions for Skywarp, and he added them carefully.

He pushed the cube into Skywarp’s hands. “Drink that.”

“I’m not gonna fit, TC,” he said, like he wanted to reassure them both. “Also, this isn’t fresh.”

“It’s from yesterday. I’m worried the pipes will be damaged,” Thundercracker said. “Drink it.”

Skywarp sighed, and did as he was told. The tremor in his wings was there, but not the shaking hands, or the wide eyes. He hadn’t clutched at his spark.

If anything, he looked annoyed and a bit nervous, certainly not on the verge of a spark seizure.

He certainly hadn’t overreacted, though. They could both hear the emergency responders, and Thundercracker imagined someone would be up through the floors soon, ensuring damage wasn’t serious. The smell of smoke was faint, not coming from their building.

But maybe they shouldn’t have turned on the holoscreen, to see that the explosion had come from Rodion.

“Maybe we should go look,” said Skywarp slowly. “If they need the military, it’s part of our job to—“

“You’re carrying, and exempt,” Thundercracker said. “And I'm on leave. No, Updraft will understand if I stay with you this time.”

Skywarp looked towards their berthroom, and the broken window. His energon sat on the table, unfinished, but there was no sign of a fit. He was chewing his lip nervously the way the usual, unhappy Skywarp would, not because the newspark was pressing on the wrong nodes in his spark chamber and sending bad signals.

Eventually (thankfully?) they dozed off, Thundercracker's head on Skywarp’s shoulder. He woke to a sharp rap on the door, and his thrusters almost roared to life in alarm.

Skywarp got up first, before Thundercracker could stop him, striding up to the front door. He opened it only a crack and peered out.

“Yeah?” he said. Thundercracker couldn’t see who it was at the door until Skywarp stepped back, letting the door slide open fully. Almost right away, he had relaxed, wings in the middle of his back. “Hey, doctor. You had time to drop by?”

Thundercracker relaxed too. He had thought it might be a building inspector, to tell them the place was now damaged beyond livability and to get out. Worse yet, it could have been an Elite Guardsmech, to tell them Updraft lay in surgery or worse…

But Uppercut wouldn’t have been smiling if that were the case. The big mech behind her carefully folded in his wings, to pass through the doorway, and Thundercracker realized that this was another bot Updraft had picked up. Uppercut’s brother, in fact. He kept his wings pulled in tight, looking stiffly around the apartment.

“Shouldn’t you be helping the wounded?” Thundercracker asked. Windjammer (yes, the mech's name was as big and ridiculous as he was) raised a brow at him. Uppercut smiled his way as she set out her tools, and Thundercracker saw her exhaustion.

Stupid. He wasn’t the one who was supposed to speak before he thought.

“I have been,” Uppercut said. “And there was plenty to do. But, thank Primus, there were no deaths this time. So far.”

“Windows broke all the way up here, though,” Skywarp said. He was already lying down, knowing how this went by now.

“Some will die in the hospital,” Windjammer said quietly. “It just wasn’t instantaneous.”

“And maybe they won’t,” Uppercut said. “They’re in the hands of good surgeons, and we have to hope. Updraft’s fine, by the way. She was in recharge at home.”

The comms had come back, and messages came in slowly. From Uppercut, to say she’d be on her way. And Updraft, who assured them that she was fine, they were all fine, and only asked if Skywarp needed her.

As Uppercut took her readings, Windjammer glanced at the cracks in their balcony window. “They’ll be through here in no time to fix the damage,” he said.

“Our berthroom windows are out completely,” Thundercracker said.

Windjammer smiled. “Oh, then they’ll fix it even faster,” he said. “I think we have enough put away back home, if something was damaged. I’m glad to see it was only windows here.”

Thundercracker wondered idly why someone middle caste would have to pay for repairs, when the city would take care of it for them without trouble. He put the thought out of his mind, instead watching Uppercut take her readings.

“So why'd you bring an escort?” Skywarp asked. He winced, barely keeping his arm still as Uppercut took his energon sample. “I thought you were curfew-exempt.”

“He insisted,” Uppercut said. “As an _Elite Guard professional,_ and when I'm a civilian in unsafe streets. Or something like that. Updraft couldn't go—she's patrolling with some of the trines.”

“Trines?” Skywarp said in surprise.

“Flight trines,” Windjammer said. He said it the Vosian way, to remind them who his parent was. “It's not significant, not like Vos.”

Thundercracker tried not to feel offended, when he formed temporary trines for his students all the time. Uppercut put aside one of the energon samples and stood, brushing off her hands.

“I wanted to check in on all my carrying patients,” she said. “You were closest to the site of the explosion, then I have to run back to the hospital. There’s a new parent and their newspark who we just extracted the other day, as well as the others.”

Windjammer yawned. “And a couple more in their homes,” he said. “Curfew exempt or not, it’s best she be escorted.”

“You're impossible,” Uppercut said fondly. After a final look over at Skywarp, she seemed satisfied. “I’m not entirely sure I was needed, to be honest. Rest and energon is my prescription.”

“Then why did you come?” Skywarp asked. He sounded genuinely surprised, and Thundercracker wanted to know, too. “There’s plenty of other mechs who will need you. At the hospital, especially.”

“Because you’re my patient,” Uppercut said, as if it were obvious. “Even without the…possible bias of your family connection, you’re a high-risk carrier who just suffered a shock. The attack could have been across town and I still would have been by.”

“Thank you,” Thundercracker said. Before Uppercut could step away he stood, clasping her large hand briefly in his. She paused, optics wide and bright. “We really appreciate your consideration, doctor. I would have called you anyway, but—“

Uppercut’s faceplate flushed as she stepped back, and she was smiling slightly. In that moment, he remembered how young she really was, compared to him.

“It’s my job,” she said. “My carriage patients are limited, and all hands were already on deck in the emergency ward, so to speak. I had very good reason to come and see you.”

They left not long after, to tend to those other patients. Windjammer bid them goodbye with minimal suspicion, so Thundercracker guessed they had made a connection there. Despite their broken windows and the smell of smoke, Skywarp relaxed.

“You know, since my hospital stint doctors always made me nervous,” he said. “But not her. I swear my sparkbeat gets slower just because she's in the room.”

Whatever Uppercut did when she was there, it seemed to work, and Thundercracker thanked Primus silently for their good luck. Shakeup wouldn’t believe Skywarp’s progress when the charts were sent to her—Thundercracker honestly couldn’t, either.

He went downstairs, long enough to be assured the pipes were undamaged and their windows would be repaired within days. Until then, Thundercracker put thermoblankets over the broken panes, swept up the pieces, and settled into the main room with Skywarp. Updraft sent a worried call over the holoscreen that evening, but there was nothing frightening to report. She even had time for mischief, when they were wrapping up the call.

“Uppercut’s started kiddo's frame,” she said. Skywarp sat up right away, and Thundercracker's wings pricked up in interest. “She showed me the blueprints, and…oh, that’s all I’ll say. You’re getting there!”

Torn between thrilled, terrified, and furious that she had seen and they hadn't, on her next flight with them they pestered her.

_What colour?_ Skywarp asked. _Size? Who does it look like?_

_I only saw a blueprint,_ Updraft said, her laugh clear even through comm. _I assume baby-sized. And I can’t answer the others._

_Than why torture us?_ Thundercracker exclaimed. Under a clear sky, in the cool air, it was hard to sound stern.

_I’m sure two big mechs like you can manage,_ she said cheerfully. _Anyway, there’s only so much a frame builder can do. The spark is what gives life and features and all those details. So according to my sister, anyway._

They pestered Uppercut a little her next visit, but she was even more close-lipped.

“I _knew_ she'd say something,” she said, in mock annoyance. “I hope she also told you that no matter what paint colour, or optic glass, or face I give them, the spark has a mind of its own.”

“Constructed cold mechs are built pretty specifically,” Skywarp said.

Uppercut made a face. “And the same thing happens,” she said. “Not that anyone would ever admit it. After the initial onlining things can be changed, yes, but…that’s not particularly relevant anyway,” she added. Instead, she managed a smile. “I can forward you some images of newsparks I did oversee building of. Ones now online, so you can have an idea.”

They were cute enough, said forwarded newsparks. What they really wanted was a photo of Updraft when she was new, but Starscream had none. It was infuriating, to think he had not even gotten even _one_ snapshot of his offspring when she had been a baby.

Months passed like this, peaceful and warm. They only heard from Starscream about business matters, and occasionally Thundercracker checked in on his work and sent something back. Uppercut's weekly visits were broken up by the occasional hospital appointment, where she'd show them the latest scan and the measurements for the newest supplements. Skywarp rested, and caught up on video games, and Thundercracker was sure it was the best thing for him.

Starscream showed up on an appointment morning.

Updraft had taken the morning off work to join her sister, for this last visit before Skywarp would be transferred. They were close, and it no longer bothered them—she'd never had someone to be close to that way, and they ought to let her enjoy it. Thundercracker wrestled with guilt knowing he'd have to wake his sleepy conjux up for examination, but as Uppercut set down her things, Skywarp cracked one optic open.

“I recharge even _more_ now,” he said, stretched out. “I was out most of the cycle, and I'm still tired.”

Uppercut smiled. Updraft, leaning over the couch's edge, tapped between his optics. “I should skim off some of your supplements,” she said. “It's hard to recharge after my night patrols.”

“Don't even joke,” Uppercut said. Gently—even more gently than usual—she set the round spark monitor on Skywarp's chest. “Now, let's see if baby's moved any. Sometimes they do at this point, and it'd make it easier to—”

A _rip_ could be heard on the balcony, and they all turned. Only the screen on the balcony was shut, for the cool breeze of the day, and the sound wasn't unfamiliar. Sometimes something knocked into it, or an older one simply tore.

Instead, Thundercracker watched as their trine leader calmly stripped the screen at its edge, and stepped off their balcony into the room. His wings were pricked high, his optics bright...and he had his insufferably smug look plastered on on his faceplate, plating ruffled in satisfaction. Thundercracker's spark dropped in disgust.

Starscream glanced around, taking in the little apartment and those in it. Skywarp started to sit up (and was stopped by Uppercut's firm hand), Updraft's wings flicked straight up, and Thundercracker stepped in front of all of them.

“Well,” Starscream said. “Aren't you all a sight. Lieutenant.”

“Sir,” Thundercracker said. They were formalities that they used on and off, depending on their moods. It was like his trine leader had pulled a dark, suffocating cloud into their home, a place and world they'd finally all gotten used to.

Updraft tipped her chin up proudly, folding her arms. She certainly still looked the part of a Vosian aristocrat. “You could have knocked, you know. Or commed. Or anything, other than breaking and entering.”

Starscream snorted. “Please,” he said, striding up to Skywarp. “It's my trine's _rental._ They don't mind.” He bent down, past Updraft, squinting at Skywarp. “Ah, you _are_ close. You've got a glow about you.”

“Suddenly you're the carriage expert?” Skywarp said. He looked alarmed, which bothered Thundercracker in turn. Normally their trine leader's words rolled easily off of him, much more effortlessly than they did Thundercracker.

“I did it once, didn't I?” Starscream said. He gazed, coldly, at his daughter. Not as icily as how Uppercut watched him, but he seemed to be paying no attention. “Now, the delivery mechs will be in Vos tomorrow. I've ordered everything you'll need, and--”

“Oh, _please,_ ” Skywarp said sharply. Updraft had opened her mouth, but it seemed she'd been beaten to it. “Almost a year with only work comms, and _zero_ interest in the kiddo, and suddenly you show up and act like presents will do it? I'm sure you'll feel like playing backseat carrier, too, since dumb Skywarp _surely_ won't be capable.” He folded his arms, across his spark. “I'm in the middle of something. We'll talk later.”

Thundercracker filed away Starscream's dumbfounded expression for later, and knew Updraft was doing the same. Already her plating had relaxed a little, and he could see her feeling braver.

If there was any time she was ready to take him on, he figured it was now.

“Listen to your lieutenant,” Updraft said. “Skywarp and Thundercracker are busy.”

“Well aren’t you the mouthy one now,” Starscream said. He looked her up and down, optics narrowed. “For a minor officer in the _Cybertronian_ fleet, and not the finest Air Command in the star system.”

Updraft didn’t react—she knew better—but Thundercracker stood straighter. Uppercut simply continued what she was doing with the energon sample, watching out of the corner of her optic.

“Thundercracker,” Starscream said after a moment, turning from Updraft completely. “I’ve chartered a shuttle back to Vos for Skywarp. Surely you weren’t planning on your offspring being extracted _here—“_

“I’m staying here!” Skywarp said, at the very same time Thundercracker snapped “Are you crazy?”

Uppercut straightened abruptly, to her full height, and Starscream paused. Thundercracker had been paying less attention to her size lately, as she had more than made up for it. But she was tall, broad, and intimidating if she chose to be.

“My patient is not being moved,” she said, stepping towards Starscream. The words were in perfect Vosian, at odds with her frame. So Knock Out had taught her something useful—and Thundercracker wondered why she hadn't spoken it before. Their trine leader took a step back right away, wings dipped…and it was not particularly becoming, for an Air Commander. “No farther than the hospital, where he’ll be monitored until extraction in the best possible environment. You are uninvited to this appointment, and treating your trine members and lieutenants with incredible disrespect.”

Skywarp’s jaw dropped. Updraft’s brows were raised, but she didn’t exactly look displeased. Uppercut stood back, folding her arms.

“You’ve made yourself a door, and can step back through it, thank you,” she said finally.

“How dare you speak to me like that?” Starscream said. He turned to Thundercracker, optics wide with disbelief, mistaking his relative quiet for compliance. “You let this low-caste _roller_ speak to you this way?”

“I’m letting the _doctor_ put you in your place,” he said. “You’re welcome back as soon as you comm ahead, and use the door.”

Starscream was outnumbered four to one, and it was clear he'd expected his trine to acquiesce to him as soon as he showed up. He must have struggled with them gone, with lesser lieutenants and unable to convince even Thundercracker to work full-time. So he turned, again, to Uppercut.

“I outrank you,” he said flatly. If that was the best he could come up with, then it was entirely possible Starscream wasn't as bright as Thundercracker had thought.

“But not the rest of us,” Updraft said. Her optics were icy, almost white in how brightly they blazed. “You're the Air Commander, it doesn't mean you can break into mech's apartments.”

“Well I--” Starscream started. The huffed, turning on his heel and tipping his chin up in disgust. He looked at Skywarp over his shoulder, optics half-shuttered. “I hope you're happy with yourself. You would think after what _I_ went through, you'd want my help.”

And he was gone, back through his screen door hole and thrusters roaring to life. As soon as he was out of sight, Updraft slumped.

“Well,” she said, very quietly. “At least he didn't catch me alone, I guess. Sorry.”

Instantly, Skywarp was apologetic. “What are you sorry for?” he asked. He reached up, to touch her elbow. “It's not your fault he's that way. He's just a dramatic fragger.”

“I think we were done, anyway,” Uppercut said. Her plating was still ruffled in a remarkably Vosian way, and an odd sight on the big femme. “If you need it...I can make sure he's not allowed in the hospital, when you're there.”

Skywarp waved his hand. “No, you...you can't do that,” he said, even as Updraft's wings twitched. “It's tempting, but in the end it'd be worse. Really.”

Uppercut packed her things, and Updraft followed her out, significantly more subdued than she had been when she arrived. Thundercracker felt a wave of guilt—he could stuck up for her better, not be cowed by their trine leader. But he was still a mech he had to deal with.

“She's not going to visit at the hospital, if he's around,” he said to Skywarp, once the door was closed.

His conjux sighed. “I know. But what else are we supposed to do? He's still part of us, TC.”

That was true too. For good measure, he sent a comm Updraft's way, for her to read when she was up to it. _We can handle him. And we'll make sure he doesn't bother you._

He wasn't sure how, not yet, but Updraft was still their responsibility. If Starscream was going to be around for the rest of this, they would have to protect her from him, however that would be. He'd been concerned about Uppercut initially, especially at her caste, but—no, she had moved up in the world. A doctor was still first class, not much lower than they were in the Taxonomy, and she had seemed very much unafraid of the Air Commander.

“I have this horrible fear,” Skywarp said, sounding sleepy already, “that kiddo will end up with a shrieky voice like Starscream's or something. We were never babies, but do you remember him talking? Back in the creche?”

Thundercracker grinned in spite of himself. He stroked Skywarp's helm, and instead of Starscream or young, shrill voices, imagined Updraft holding their newbuilt. They _would_ protect this one, and this time, they would have nothing in their way.

 


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> New life joins Cybertron not with a bang, but a flash of light.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Remember how this was gonna be a oneshot? Then a two parter, then a three parter?
> 
> ...
> 
> Well I promise the last part is short, but there's gonna be four now. Then, onward to Fledgling's sequel, something I'm REALLY excited about and I think you guys will be too! It's where Updraft's story, Vosian Wind here, and the war we all know is coming really start to intersect!
> 
> There is a description of a "spark birth" extraction surgery in this chapter, if that might bother anyone. As always thanks so much for reading, and I hope you like it!! The last part will be up tomorrow, it's all ready.

Starscream didn’t show up again, but the relaxed mood had been broken. Updraft would comm ahead nervously before any visits, clearly not wanting to be caught by him unawares again.

 _I’m not scared, exactly,_ she told Skywarp, as if she would ever have to explain herself. _But I've very much enjoyed not dealing with him._

If Skywarp was honest, so had he. But to be fully, completely honest, he would have also had to admit that he missed Starscream too.

He _had_ good qualities, he did! If he only thought to prop them up and think less about being important or better than anyone else, people might see them. He hadn’t exactly thought about that Starscream in a very long time, but officially barred from transforming and only allowed to walk from the washrack and back, he’d had a lot of time to think.

And if he thought harder about it, Updraft was very much like how Starscream had been long ago. Proud, intelligent, and knowing what she wanted. There was very little she wasn’t determined enough to get.

Even if all she wanted at the moment was to be away from Starscream.

Skywarp was restless when it came time to go to the hospital. He didn’t recharge as much as he should have, and Thundercracker worried, but there wasn’t much he could do about it. He wondered if he would feel that telltale fizzle in his spark, and the accompanying terror, as a seizure settled in and made everything worse.

But it didn’t. They weren’t sure what it was, but whatever Uppercut was doing for him seemed to have worked. Unease—and this end-of-carriage discomfort—were things he could manage.

Did she know that his sparkbeat settled as soon as her hands were on his chest, setting a monitor? Did her colleagues know? It certainly hadn’t been an intentional response the first time, with her size and knowing she was no older than little Updraft.

He had decided not to bother her about it. Maybe commenting on her excellent bedside manner would only succeed in making her nervous, and throw the whole thing off balance.

There was one sparkbeat that _hadn’t_ settled, and it was his offspring's. The longer it went on, the stronger it felt, pulsing hard against his and pushing, insistently, against their shared chamber.

They pulsed all through his last couple weeks of berthrest at home, pushing his spark to the point that a red glow emanated insistently from his chest. Starscream had pointed it out, to his embarrassment, but Thundercracker seemed thrilled. And he couldn't be too annoyed, when he got to see his serious conjux pleased and excited. At night he would recharge with his audial to Skywarp’s chest, listening to the hum of two sparks and bathed in light.

His hospital room was considerably more comfortable than the last one, at least. No CR chamber in sight, no energon drip, nurses who were friendly and not purse-lipped at his charts.

The main problem was the rest. Oh, he loved his recharge, especially these days, but it wasn't _all_ he wanted to do.

“No video games,” Uppercut told him. “Holovids and books are okay, but nothing intense. We want your spark restful and your frame not distracted.”

“No video games?” Skywarp said weakly. Uppercut smiled, and shook her head. “None? Not even ones I need to finish off?”

“Not even those,” Uppercut said, more firmly. “You're in the home stretch, and I don't want _Organic Fluidfest 6_ to be the reason your sparkpulse is 30 percent too high or erratic.”

Thundercracker, the traitor, was trying not to laugh behind her. “We've left them at home, doctor.”

“Good,” Uppercut said. “They'll still be there when you're discharged.”

“Yeah,” Skywarp said, stretching out on the berth. “And I'll be a carrier, with kiddo to watch out for. I won't have time!”

Uppercut had to smile. “And here I am worrying my patients won't take responsibilities seriously. Don't worry, Thundercracker—after visiting hours the nurses will keep an optic on him.”

Skywarp groaned, and his conjux actually cracked a grin. When Uppercut left, Thundercracker leaned over, pressing his audial to Skywarp's chest.

“I thought you were worried about me,” Skywarp said.

“I am,” Thundercracker said, still smiling. “A normal amount. I'm glad you're here, just in case.”

“Well, I'm not.”

“I know. Two more weeks.”

The first thing he'd do, Skywarp thought, was leap off the hospital roof, fly high, and teleport across town. For a moment he wondered if his offspring would wind up with a teleport generator of their own, and he could teach them how to take control and get anywhere they wanted, the fastest, with the most surprise, in simply the best way there was. Two outliers against the world.

No, he reminded himself, stroking Thundercracker's wing edge. She'd be lucky if she wasn't one.

After a few days, Updraft showed up, relieved Starscream hadn't appeared. Skywarp was relieved too, because Thundercracker was filing something for Starscream downtown, and her appearance broke his monotony nicely. Grinning widely, she dropped a box in his lap.

“Baby gifts!” she said. “The bigger package is from me.”

“And the little one?” Skywarp asked. Updraft's wings flicked.

“My sire,” she said. “You don't have to take it if you don't want to, but he and Breakdown insisted they send something along.”

He couldn't imagine why they would, but he'd noticed Knock Out's brute of a conjux made efforts to courteous. To rise above his origins, maybe? He opened Updraft's first, fumbling with her wrapping job. He had to say it was...unique.

“A lot of tape,” he noted, grinning as Updraft flushed.

“Hey, I tried!” she protested, only making him grin wider. “Anyway, it's the gift that counts.”

It turned out to be two sets of polish, and tiny new detailing brushes—perfectly sized for a newspark. One was the brand he liked, but the other was something new, much less potent than what a Seeker would normally put on.

“I figured I'd get them their first polish set,” Updraft said, grinning wide again. “The other's for you, once you're out of here. You're looking dull at the seams.”

Skywarp threw the empty box at her, and she ducked, still grinning like a mischievous sparklet.

“You try being stuck on bedrest, you brat!” he said, but the words had no bite. “I'll show you dull seams.”

Updraft brought her wings high up, still grinning. “Open the next one, Warp. I didn't wrap it, so you can stop making fun of me.”

“Never,” Skywarp said, ripping off the paper. He had put aside Updraft's card—she was right in front of him, so he could thank her himself—but unfolded this gift's little wafer of writing metal to look at. Knock Out had neat glyphs, ones Thundercracker would approve of, and he'd written in Vosian:

_Skywarp,_

_No doubt your newspark will want for nothing, but I've been where you are and had no one to send anything. These are unconventional, but when we couldn't quiet ours this would soothe their crying._

_The blanket's nothing special, but I hate those bulky thick ones. I hope you find use for this one._

  * _Knock Out of the Vosian Heights_




The last thing he'd expected had been a gift from the mech whose house he'd teleported into. The note was brief and curt, and Skywarp guessed that Knock Out wanted to show he was above old rivalries. Anyway, he and Thundercracker had visited a few times since Updraft had left Vos, and things were better.

Not _great,_ but Updraft was pleased, and that was what mattered.

He held up the little thermoblanket and grinned, seeing the gold clouds patterned on the edges of the dark red mesh. “I didn't think he'd spend shanix on me,” he said.

“I didn't either,” Updraft said, grinning. “He said it was only right to send a present along. Also, that blanket matches me, he made a _great_ choice.”

Skywarp had to assume that was intentional. The rest of the package was a little box that had been pushed in next to the blanket. Carefully opening it, he found...some funny round bits of rubber, attached to thin metal pieces.

“What's this?” he asked, narrowing his optics as he held one up. Updraft leaned closer, staring at them.

“No idea,” she said. “But apparently they stop newsparks crying. I'll ask my sire.”

Skywarp asked the nurse at the end of visiting hours instead, as she came in to pull the curtains closed and check his readings. When she saw his package, her face lit up, and she grinned.

“Those are soothers, sir,” she said, holding one up. “You can put it in baby's mouth and they'll suck on it, like when they're at the bottle. Very popular on Caminus.”

Updraft laughed. “So _that's_ what's in their mouths in Knock Out's pictures!” she said.

Skywarp's optics flashed mischievous, sitting up a little straighter. “Maybe this is what Starscream's needed all this time. Tell Knock Out _thank you._ ”

The poor roller nurse looked baffled, but Updraft laughed so hard she almost fell off her chair. It was so good to see her laugh like that, and she was still smiling on her way out the door at the thought.

“Don't worry, kiddo,” he said, setting up the small holoscreen to call Thundercracker and say goodnight. His hand rested over his spark. “I wouldn't let him slobber over your new stuff. That's all yours. So's all your stuff at the rental, and your stuff back in Vos.”

Uppercut smiled when she saw the gifts the next day, stowed next to the berth. “He wanted me to bring them, but it wouldn't be correct of me,” she said. “Being your doctor and all.”

“I didn't expect anything from him, of all mechs,” he said. “I mean, we're on okay terms and all, but...”

He shrugged, embarrassed. He tried not to think about that awful night, when they'd tried to drag Updraft home to Vos. Uppercut just shook her head.

“No worrying,” she said sternly. “No bad memories, if you can manage it. The day after tomorrow, you'll have a newspark.”

“I...yeah,” he said, his voice quieter. “Yeah, we will.”

Thundercracker would get to stay that night, and spent most of the visiting hours resting a hand on Skywarp's chest. There was a pullout berth in the waiting area if he wanted it, but they both knew he wouldn't recharge.

“It wasn't so bad,” Thundercracker murmured. “Thank you, Warp.”

Skywarp blinked, and not just at the old nickname. “Thank you? What for?”

Thundercracker looked around quickly, to make sure no staff was in the room to see them. Then he ran his thumb over Skywarp's cheek, under his optic. “For carrying. I know you agreed to sire a spark for me.”

“Nah,” Skywarp said. His optics flickered brighter. “If I wasn't 95 percent sure, I wouldn't have agreed.”

“Only 95?”

“Well, you can't be sure of everything,” he said. His grin was crooked. “But let's see how it turns out, okay, TC?”

 

* * *

 

Uppercut had done this plenty of times.

Certainly not as many as the likes of Ratchet or Pharma. But the ones she had, she had done well. In training she'd seen all manner of patients at risk—crumbling spark chambers, insufficient energon flow, newsparks knocked loose…

Most had lived. If there was a way to save a patient, they found it—and often, they found a new one if there wasn’t a way. It was normal to feel personally responsible for a bad outcome, her teachers assured them. Be ready for it.

Of course, Uppercut was bigger than her classmates. Stronger, broader, forced to be more deliberate as she moved by necessity. She wasn't even medical colours, the red marks on her given only at graduation to mark her new function.

(They didn’t really match her deep blue paint, or the white accents. Knock Out had been too proud at her convocation to care.)

She was easy to point out if she made a mistake. If she didn’t make a mistake, she still stuck out like scratched plating, and fingers had been pointed at her before. Her classmates, unhappy patients, impatient nurses…and a professor or two, worst of all.

Maybe that was how she had learned to calm patients. How to barely make contact as she took readings and samples, use her softest voice to comfort them, how to help a spark pulse calm by helping her own do the same.

How she'd forced herself under pressure to _twist_ Zeta's spark in her hands to dislodge the little one, knowing he would die anyway and that she might as well lose her license knowing she did absolutely everything in her power—

—and despite her sister and sire's best efforts, she couldn’t explain how she had known after it would have always worked. That Senator Zeta's floundering spark would rest gently against her hand, long enough for her to extract the newspark and hand it to the horrified Towers doctor overseeing her. She had held it in place, Chief Medical Officer Ratchet said, impossibly long, long enough for it to be jump started with the nitrate infusion and get him into the CR chamber. Long enough to leave a deep scorch mark on her hand, down to the wires. Superficial, she told herself.

There had been private interviews by senior staff. She had explained her situation, and been frightened when they told her what she’d done was impossible.

“But it wasn’t,” she told them bravely. “I only did my job.”

The word _prodigy_ was murmured, but not by Ratchet. He had simply sent her to Iacon Memorial's spark ward in a leading role, and her pay had gone up a ridiculous amount. Zeta himself, they said, claimed he would only have her to care for him when he carried his next one. And he might be Prime one day, so they took his words seriously. For a little while, Functionism was put aside.

Her old classmates never apologized for placing all that old blame on her. She didn’t care.

Of course, this meant certain expectations were on her broad shoulders. She dreaded the day that the inevitable occurred under her watch, though Ratchet himself had warned her it would, and her team assured her they would be supportive. Extraction was a dangerous business, and not all sparks held out. Their life force was still so poorly understood, almost mystic, and Uppercut didn’t have the cybercrosis cure, or a way to stop brittle chamber syndrome.

So she was nervous before every major procedure. Anything could happen.

At least with Skywarp it seemed unlikely.

He lay on her operating table now, optics shuttered in stasis and spark chamber partly unhitched. In school the students had joked, calling it _airing things out_. It did, a little—it made the sparkbeat more rapid and the little ball of light more firm. It was much easier to coax the newspark away.

“Restraints in place?” she asked Suture. Her nurse nodded, lightly tapping one of Skywarp’s wrists.

Skywarp hadn’t liked that idea, but he’d been less upset than Thundercracker. A patient in spark duress could thrash, and extraction was nothing if not spark duress. The frame sometimes thought it was a death throe, not a life giving act.

“Yes, doctor,” he said. (It still felt unreal, to be _doctor._ ) “Sparkbeat is at 80 per klik. Energon and morphite drips are in place.”

“A little slower than we’d like,” Uppercut said, striding back over. “Administer a quarter-dose of nitrate. It should make things just rapid enough.”

“Yes, doctor.” Some mechs required multiple nurses at extractions, but Uppercut had found so many hands to be trouble. If an emergency arose, more were right outside, but Skywarp was stable. Primed for his ordeal.

Besides, Suture was worth five other nurses on his own. No nonsense, darkly humourous—and had never scorned Uppercut for moving up in the world. She suspected he had been at Iacon Memorial since Knock Out had been in med school.

While Suture administered the nitrate, Uppercut wheeled their other frame forward. Right now Skywarp’s future offspring was under a sheet, just a collection of parts pumped with energon and mech fluids. But when she gently removed the cover, features could be pointed out. She’d painted the frame a deep, subtle purple, after Updraft had shown her the fashionable Vosian colours and what Skywarp liked.

Of course, sparks had a mind of their own. It might like the colour, or it might come to life its own way and put her work to shame.

Or it might do something in between, and she’d spend a third shift painting a squalling infant. There was never a dull moment in her line of work.

“You don't really need to paint them, you know,” Suture said, glancing at the frame. “Primus does the work there.”

“Well, most of the time,” Uppercut said. With new gloves, she made sure the tiny spark chamber was properly unhitched for later. Nothing could be out of place. “I don't like them to look dead when they come in. They're going to come alive, one way or another.”

“Well, that time's coming soon,” Suture said. “Our sparkpulse is at a brisk 115 per klik.”

Still on the slow side of acceptable, but acceptable nonetheless. She couldn't wait around with her patient's spark out in the open. “Then we're ready to go. Shaper, please.”

Sometimes this only took a few minutes—those were the easy carriers, ones whose sparks were big and solid and easy to cut. When the newspark had taken in exactly the right place, the front of the spark, it was almost like skimming the foam off fresh energon.

Being a Seeker, Skywarp wouldn't make it that easy. Doubling that, his newspark had chosen to attach at the spark's very back, the part of the chamber hardest to reach. It put pressure on the parent and caused discomfort, something Uppercut had done her best to help alleviate.

But these were things to make things more difficult, not dangerous. She had to tell herself it would be fine. This was the first time she had had the difficulties compounded by a sleek, high-risk Seeker, but she'd extracted newsparks plenty of times from all sides of sparks.

Uppercut set two of her fingers along Skywarp's spark chamber, manually pulling one side down, and then the other. The faint glow in the room became a fiery brightness, and Uppercut's own spark caught in her chest as she watched this open one swirl, pulsing deep red and alive. Most sparks on her table were blue, some yellow—red optics were less common in their part of the world.

She only had a moment to be amazed by Skywarp's life force. She knew where the newspark was, but couldn't see it, so the shaper was necessary for her patient. Now was the hard part.

Suture's sharp optics watched as she put the shaper gently inside the spark chamber. It was a thin, curved piece of metal on a handle, meant to match the shape of the chamber itself. It was easy enough to get it into position, with practice and a steady hand. Slowly, Uppercut twisted her wrist clockwise. The spark moved with her, and Skywarp's frame twitched. Moving a spark had made even her fellow students queasy, but Uppercut had quickly gotten over her discomfort. It was beautiful, after all, that life-giving ball, and each one was unique.

A little more of a turn, and the glow flickered. This part was much easier if the spark colour was different from the carrier's. Then all she had to do was wait for the glow to change colour, and find the tiny seam where the newspark was ready to break off. In this case, the newspark would have optics the same bright Vosian red as their carrier and sire. Uppercut herself had red optics, but her carrier's were yellow. She had been easy to cut off the spark.

“Dim the light, Suture,” she said. “Only for a moment, while I find the seam.”

With the bright lights downed a fraction, Uppercut could clearly pick out where the newspark would separate. A tiny seam, right where she would expect it to be. The tiny spark pulsed a different rate than its carrier's, rapid and excited. Like it knew it was time to come alive.

Slowly, she removed the shaper. Skywarp twitched again, the wings moments after his frame, but the restraints kept him in place. His spark pulsed on, turned almost a full third. Updraft vented in deeply.

“Laser scalpel, please,” she said, holding out her hand. “Then ready the extractor.”

The extractor was an alarming looking tool, even in miniature as this one was. A thick tube was on its end, ready to suck in the newspark the moment Uppercut guided it off Skywarp, to lock it in place and feed it a nitrate and adrenite infusion for a survival boost. Most didn't actually need it, but those that did roared to life more brightly, stronger for those few minutes away from a frame.

Suture had been doing this longer than she had, and his placement of the extractor was ideal: a 40-degree angle, one hand on the button, the other against the patient's chest. The lights were only low enough to brighten the seam, not make their work harder, so it was with great care that Uppercut lowered her scalpel.

And sires wondered why they weren't allowed in to see the magic of new life. Uppercut sliced.

And Skywarp's frame jerked, chest rising sharply off the berth and his spark flaring nearly white in alarm.

“Doctor—” Suture said. He had seen this before, but his optics were wide. But, thank Primus, he was practiced, and his free hand tightened on Skywarp's chest.

There were benefits to being big and broad, forcibly deliberate in her movement. For one, she knew to plant her feet firmly, and how not to let her hands shake. She kept cutting, as if her patient wasn't thrashing and seizing beneath her and the spark didn't shake in its casing as it was sliced. She was the doctor, and that made her the anchor, the key to this operation's success. Not because of her title, but because she could be calm, and still, and keep these two lives safe.

“Now,” barked Uppercut, and Suture hit the switch. For one long klik, the newspark floated free, off its carrier's for the first time and not quite caught by the tool. But Suture's timing was perfect, and in the next instant the newspark was pulled into the extractor, flashing bright as the nitrate and adrenite were administered.

The next steps happened in a flash, by the rote she'd learned them: put the scalpel aside. Take the extractor from the nurse, and step away with it. And no matter what you were feeling, how much you wanted to help the carrier spark to relax again and stop its seizing, not to look back.

Skywarp's spark wasn't solidifying into jelly, or wisping out, or crackling too hot. Not yet. And in her hands, literally, was his offspring, helpless and in need of a spark specialist.

The countdown began.

Behind her Suture was beginning the stabilizing procedure, and she tuned out Skywarp's thrashes and shudders as best he could. Her comm was a razor's width away from calling for reinforcements, but she could see the readings from the other berth, and he was not quite there. Not yet, anyway.

The little frame was ready for her. In half a klik she had the protective cover of the spark chamber pulled away, and in the next half the extractor was poised over that empty space. As she hit the switch, just like all the other times, she whispered a prayer.

Right away she pulled back the extractor, so the spark wouldn't be confused by a foreign object. She put it aside immediately, ready to ease the spark chamber closed on the wild, tiny ball of light—

—When they snapped closed on their own, and the optics blazed red. Uppercut's spark hitched, but it was with relief. Strong little newsparks closed up their own spark chambers, instinctual and ready to live, the ideal the doctors didn't always get to see.

The little frame, now alive, kicked its tiny legs and _wailed._ Just the way she liked them.

Uppercut's examination was as careful and thorough as it had ever been. Suture had not called her, and she couldn't rush a single step. She closed the outer seam on the chest, then picked up the newspark, checking off her mental list of bright optics, flashing biolights, smooth joints. She noticed the paint changing colour, too, but that was less tha medical. The baby would need another few minutes to look the way they'd stay.

“Aren't you gorgeous,” she murmured, as she did to every newspark. “Your parents are so excited to meet you, you know that?” But rest right there, while I look after your carrier.”

She set them in the tiny incubator, with the vitals monitors already buzzing, and strode back to Skywarp's side.

“Still seizing,” she noted, a knot of worry in her spark now.

“The sparkpulse is slowing to normal levels,” Suture grunted. Skywarp might have been lithe, but he was bigger than the nurse, and it was taking real effort to hold him. “But I was about to call you. It's crackling.”

Uppercut hit the emergency ping on her comm, and tried not to imagine Thundercracker's face if the worst happened and she had to face him. The knot of worry in her spark hardened, but not in the anxious, panicked way of someone floundering. She was the last person with an answer on why that would be.

“I'm going to press down on it,” she said, as Suture's optics went wide. In the same moment, two more staff rushed in, immediately at attention. “Monitor vitals,” she said to the one on the left. “Hold his middle,” to the bigger one on her right, because somehow she knew how the frame would try to twist and writhe.

“Are you—sure?” Suture said. He was as steady as before, holding their patient in place, but she didn't miss the glance he exchanged with the new nurse.

She didn't answer him, as she held out her right hand and _pushed._

Even doctors weren't really supposed to touch sparks, outside of necessity. There were tools for that when needed, like her shaper, or the extractor. Self-preservation and a kind of inherent reverence kept interfacing mechs from hurting themselves or their partners, so sparkplay was generally superficial. There was nothing in the books about _pushing down with your palm_ on a panicked, dissipating life force, crackling with electricity.

For a moment it pressed against her, confused and frightened. Skywarp's body made a small noise, and thrashed just as much as she'd expected it to. She held still, and waited.

Gradually, Skywarp's spark began to slow down. She saw the crackling wisps of light smooth out on either side of her hand, and slowly pulled back. Her free hand snapped the chamber shut, and she waited.

In their audials, the newspark wailed.

“Sparkpulse dropping, dropping...rising,” said the third nurse softly. She stared at the readings. “And...normal, doctor.”

Skywarp's body was back against the berth, little twitches all that remained of his trauma. Uppercut didn't relax, though her spark soared. There would be no bad news that night.

“I'm going to need a new energon line,” she said to Suture. She motioned to the nurse holding Skywarp's feet. “Thank you, Catscan. Keep watching vitals until Suture is certain he's entering recharge out of his stasis. Remedy—“

“Your hand, doctor.”

Confused, Uppercut looked down—and found the metal of her palm warped and scorched. Again.

They were all staring at her, the crazy doctor who pushed down on bare sparks. So she smiled at the nurse. “Thank you, Remedy. You can help me give baby their first checkup, since it looks like I'll need the extra pair of hands.”

It would hurt later, and her parents would be upset about the injury. For now, she would just slap on a cold pack and direct Remedy while they thoroughly checked the infant, her spark pulsing more relaxed. This, truly, was the fun part, where the worst was over and a minutes-old Cybertronian life was crying, the most beautiful sound in the world.

“Oh, doctor,” Remedy breathed, opening the incubator. “You mixed this colour? I've never seen anything like it!”

Uppercut stared as Remedy picked up the newspark, watching her take the little one and hold them close. She forgot completely about the pain and her hand, and even Skywarp's vitals.

“I—actually painted this one purple,” she said, a little sheepishly. Remedy's optics grew rounder. Then she grinned, wide enough to cancel out her sleepy night-shift face.

“Primus at work,” she said. “Purple, you said? They sure didn't want that!”

They hadn't, because the newspark was now a vivid, shining white. No, white was too simple, because this newspark's plating _shimmered,_ a subtle rainbow of colours Uppercut wouldn't have even thought of. She couldn't imagine how they'd look in the sun, out of the glaring light of her operating room. Only some of the joints, the face, and the feet were a natural gray. Even the hands shone that pearly, silvery white.

“Well, even beautiful people need their checkups,” Uppercut said. “Let's take their fluid samples and see how the protoform's filled out.”

Vosians, she knew, loved beautiful things. It was a more subtle vanity than the Towers lot, all about wings and pastel colours...but they loved shining things too, and they were possessive of what was theirs.

She had thought the parents would like her paint job, but Primus had done her one better. She was sure her own spark glowed as bright as this newspark's paint.

 

* * *

 

Thundercracker was sick of that waiting room, but he refused to go far from it. He felt like as soon as he did, someone would be waiting for him to tell him awful news about Skywarp or his sparklet or both, and he wasn't about to take that chance.

Updraft had wanted to be with him, but she had been needed for a second patrol. The moment she was off work, she promised, she'd be down to see them.

He'd found himself, ridiculously, wishing Starscream was there with him. They _were_ supposed to be three in a lot of ways, and he should have been at the hospital to support Skywarp, if nothing else.

But he was also relieved he wasn't there, and that felt odd too.

Skywarp's appointment had been in the evening, as the spark ward wound down for the night. The smaller, smiling nurse on duty had told him to try and get some recharge, as if he could. So he read magazine datapads without seeing them, and couldn't decide on a good way to sit. His wings itched to fly, but he wouldn't leave. He'd leave with Skywarp, one of them holding their newspark.

But he must have dozed off, because he woke up to the sliding open of the door. Uppercut's familiar heavy steps made him jump up, and he thought of being back at the Academy, snapping to attention. She was smiling, a good start. Her optics had the dull sheen of exhaustion a long night at work gave.

“If you'll come with me,” she said. Thundercracker's spark skipped with something he'd never quite felt before.

He followed Uppercut, but it wasn't to Skywarp's room. It was smaller, with only one tiny, walled berth at one side. There were monitors, and a small counter with tools, but Uppercut crossed the room without looking at them. She reached into the little berth and lifted something out, wrapped in the blanket Updraft's sire had sent them.

His spark twisted, and stopped, and flared out again. The only real difference, a distant part of his mind noted, between this and the first time he saw Updraft, was there was no anger or shock Starscream's way.

He could only see the blanket at first, because the newspark somehow looked even smaller in Uppercut's big arms. He should reached out and been tripping over himself to do it—but he felt rooted to the ground. An infuriating feeling, when you were a Seeker.

“Where's Skywarp?” he found himself asking. “This isn't right. We should be meeting them together.”

Uppercut looked taken aback for a moment. “Well, he's fine,” she said, quickly collecting herself. “I know you wouldn't want me to dance around it, Thundercracker. I would have told you already.”

“So where is he?” Thundercracker asked. His fingers drummed impatiently on his arm, and he'd have to look for pricks of paint pulled away later. “I thought there's a carrier bond that needs forming.”

“He's just waking up,” Uppercut said. “It takes a full hour after that kind of duress on the spark, if not more, so we bring the baby to the sire first.” She smiled, and pulled back a corner of the blanket. “They're very calm after their first feed—until the carrier wakes up. It's the perfect time to meet sire.”

Thundercracker had met Updraft after her first frame, so he had nothing to argue that against. The bundle made a small sound, and Uppercut's smile was soft. She held out her arms.

Slowly, Thundercracker took his sparklet. He looked down, moving the blanket out of the way. And was stricken.

Their optics were half lidded, but brilliant red. They had Skywarp's nose (how did they have that? They'd been built!), a perfect little mouth, and round cheeks that made him think of a younger Updraft. But it was their plating that struck him.

“How did you...do this?” Thundercracker said, voice almost a whisper. “This colour?”

They had white plating, but you couldn't really call it white. He remembered once, a package of gifts Starscream and the city senate had received from the Galactic Council, back when the Galactic Council had still been on good terms with them and shanix had been worth something. There had been a string of something called pearls, and pieces of something called “mother-of-pearl,” and they'd never worked out how one object was supposed to parent the other. He hadn't even thought of those trinkets since they'd gotten them, but now he'd remembered the silver, multicoloured sheen of the mother-of-pearl.

Because here it was in his arms, the colour of his offspring's plating. He looked up, and realized that Uppercut was beaming.

“I painted them purple, actually,” she said. “I'm not a religious mech, but this was Primus's doing. It has to be.”

“Primus thinks he knows better,” Thundercracker murmured. “No offense, doctor, but I think he was right.”

“He was,” Uppercut said. “They've already had a full examination, and they seem to be in perfect health.”

Thundercracker let his sparklet grip onto his shaky finger, with their tiny ones. Skywarp would love them. He'd ruffle right up in pride the moment he took them in, knowing he'd had a hand in making something so beautiful. More than a hand, if Thundercracker corrected quickly—Skywarp had done all the hard work.

“Can I go sit with him?” Thundercracker asked. “Skywarp, I mean. So I'll be there when he wakes up.”

Uppercut looked thoughtful for a moment—then nodded, smiling at him. “Yes, by now that should be fine. He won't be up quite yet, so you can sit with the little one while you wait.”

His newspark already seemed entirely comfortable, holding tight to their sire's finger and optics slipping closed. He hardly looked at Uppercut as he followed her out, all his attention on holding them and not bumping into doorways or corners. She opened the door to let them in almost silently, pointing to the waiting chair.

“Hit the button if you need anything,” Uppercut said. “I'll be back when he's awake, for an examination.” She smiled at him again, and this one looked less tired. “And congratulations, Thundercracker.”

Skywarp was definitely in medically-induced recharge, or else he would never have looked so calm, arms against his sides and wings carefully moved. At night he was normally flopped in any position, and one third of him was generally draped over his conjux. Thundercracker had been recharging poorly, because he missed that weight next to him.

Of course, he only saw Skywarp out of the corner of his optics. He couldn't tear himself away from their sparklet's face.

Uppercut closed the door, and he sat carefully. Their newspark shifted in his arms, apparently trying to get comfortable, so Thundercracker shifted his hold. One of their hands still held tightly to his finger, but the other was in a tiny fist, as if they didn't quite know what to do with it yet.

“You're only an hour old,” Thundercracker murmured. “You've got lots of time to figure out your hands, don't you? And everything else.” Carefully, like they were made of glass, he lifted them up. Their forehelm was small and warm against his own, soft new metal on his military armour. “You're lovely. You have no idea how much I wanted you.”

Now he had them. And he was a little surprised to find that there wasn't any hurt in not being their carrier, when he still got to be their sire. And really, didn't he know a little about what he was doing? Updraft had never had a sire—she'd hardly had a parent early on, so Thundercracker and Skywarp had become that entirely by accident.

And failed her, badly, but they'd learned since then. Shuttering his optics, the warmth of new metal against his helm, he swore they'd do better. _Tough love_ and caste over family had been a disaster, and though they'd earned her forgiveness, he would never fail like that again. Their newspark would never want for anything, but especially not affection.

He sat like that in silence, listening to the newspark's tiny vents and feeling their warm weight in his arms. Skywarp's vents on the berth were slow beside them, his readings beeping calmly. For the first time that night, Thundercracker felt a certainty that things would be okay.

Then Skywarp's vents changed, and their newspark wriggled, _wailing_ as they pushed back.

Immediately Thundercracker panicked. He was sure Skywarp must be dying, his spark breaking away and the newspark in desperation as they felt the bond snap. He reached for the button, tugging the newspark closer to his chest—

“Hey, hey, stop that, it's alright. C'mere.”

He felt a tap on his armour, and turned to look at Skywarp, optics wide and staring at them. In an instant the newspark turned too, reaching as best they could from Thundercracker's grip in their carrier's direction. They cried, like Thundercracker's arms were the worst thing that ever happened to them.

Skywarp had reached out as best he could from the berth. Wordlessly, Thundercracker handed their offspring over, and realized he should have known Skywarp would do fine. Of the three of them, he had always operated best on instinct, not thinking too hard about what it was he needed to do. So of course he wasn't thinking of how the pamphlets said a first meeting should go, or what hold was best for a newborn. He just _did,_ and it was right. He leaned back again, and Thundercracker could see the effort it had taken to reach forward to take them. He felt a stab a guilt, knowing he should have pushed Skywarp back gently and placed them in his arms himself.

The moment the newspark was in Skywarp's arms, against his chest, they relaxed. The cries petered off, and they pressed themselves against his chestplate at the seam.

“See?” Skywarp said. His voice was hoarse, strut-tired, but with all the good nature it had ever had. “No reason to cry, kiddo. Your sire's not _that_ scary.”

Thundercracker had to bite back a snort. Of course Skywarp could pull a joke out of anything—even the once-in-a-lifetime moment of meeting his offspring.

The newspark had already popped their thumb into their mouth, optics half-shuttered again. Thundercracker realized they were falling into recharge, even as Skywarp looked down and ran a thumb over their helm.

“Uppercut _mixed_ this colour?” he said, more quietly. His grin was blazing out, the same one Thundercracker had gotten when he'd agreed to the conjux ritus. “Did we pay extra for that or something? They're beautiful.”

Thundercracker grinned too, and leaned closer. It was an infectious smile. “She said the colour she painted got cancelled out by this. It's just luck.”

“Well,” Skywarp said, shoulder brushing Thundercracker's, “I feel lucky.”

They admired their plating, their helm shape, their big optics and tiny nose as the newspark slept. Against Skywarp, they'd apparently decided everything was absolutely fine, and if carrier was awake they absolutely _needed_ their presence. Thundercracker knew that was normal, but was still relieved when Uppercut showed up and confirmed it.

“Perfectly normal and expected, especially the first week or so,” she said. She took an energon sample and Skywarp seemed to hardly notice, propped up and watching the newspark shift in their sleep. “Some newsparks might be like that for months, and some get over it fast.”

''I don't think I want them to get over it,” Skywarp said. “It feels...nice.”

“Because they're brand new,” Uppercut said cheerfully. “It'll fade off naturally, and you'll probably be sad about it, but that's just them growing up. No need to worry right now.”

Thundercracker couldn't imagine this perfect, tiny little thing being any bigger, or anything more than they were now. They were perfect as is, and he felt a sudden dread at how quickly Updraft had grown older and independent. It would be better not to think about it at the moment.

Uppercut was finished quickly, putting her samples away. “You had a rough go of it, but the end results are perfect,” she said. “But I'd like you here two more weeks for observation, just until I'm certain your spark is recovered. The second week you can probably stretch your wings.”

Skywarp's grin was beautiful, enough that Thundercracker smiled too. Infectious. It would be wonderful to fly with Skywarp again—well, it would be if they could find someone to watch the newspark. Would they fit in one of their cockpits safely, if they got some straps installed to hold them?

Those were questions for later, when Uppercut set a datapad and stylus next to them. “If you've decided on a name already, I can update the record now. But of course there's no rush.”

Skywarp looked up in surprise. “Oh, we decided ages ago,” he said. “But I wasn't even thinking about it today...TC? You picked it.”

Thundercracker picked up the datapad. The form already had a date of birth, optic colour, carrier's and sire's names, and “of Iacon” neatly printed on it. All that was needed was their signatures...and a designation, an official one. Thundercracker took the stylus and wrote the name, in his neat glyphs. He signed his own name, and held out the datapad for Skywarp. Uppercut leaned forward, to get a look.

“It's Mistral,” Thundercracker said. “Mistral of Iacon. It's an old Vosian name.”

“It's definitely Vosian,” Uppercut said. “I'm not sure I've caught the meaning.”

“It's a cold northwestern wind,” Skywarp said. “You get them mostly in the cold season, or when it's getting warmer.”

“It's beautiful,” Uppercut said. Thundercracker knew he was beaming, and didn't care a bit.

“It suits them,” he said. “And they can always change it one day, if they want.”

“My brother did that,” Uppercut said. “I thought about it, but I decided I didn't mind being named after a punch. It throws mechs off.”

Skywarp dropped back off into recharge soon after, Mistral tucked against his chest. The sparklet stayed awake longer, but they didn't move or make much noise. They were obviously content in the position they were in. Thundercracker opened a book he'd been meaning to read, and for the first time in months sat still without worrying.

 

* * *

 

“They're _beautiful!_ ” Updraft exclaimed the next day, just as he'd expected her to. “Oh, I had no idea they could come out that colour. They'll be the most beautiful Seeker one day.”

“That's a long time coming,” Skywarp said, plating ruffled with pride and his grin wide.

“You said that about me, too,” Updraft said airily. “They'll be more beautiful than me, _easy._ Oh, look at them!”

For all his anxiety that he wouldn't carry well, Skywarp had settled into his first day with ease. Maybe with the spark finally off him, and the pain and discomfort over, it was simple to fall into the instinctive groove of simply making sure Mistral was alright. That part seemed easy enough for him.

Updraft held them, her grin brilliant, and Thundercracker snapped a picture of them the two of them. That was rare of him, and Skywarp raised a brow, but neither of them were exactly themselves, not that day.

Besides, Mistral wouldn't be this small forever. They didn't have enough photos of Updraft when she'd been small, and Thundercracker intended not to make mistakes this time.

Mistral didn't allow Updraft to hold them long—soon they were fussing and wriggling, and the attempt to pop one of those funny soothers into their mouth did little to calm them. Back with Skywarp they settled in comfortably, making it clear what they had wanted.

“Do you think they'll want he or she?” Updraft asked. “Or neither? Someone in my class never picked.”

“Doesn't matter,” Skywarp said cheerfully. “They'll still be the same. So, perfect.”

If Updraft had never forgiven them, he probably wouldn't have wanted a sparklet of his own. The failure of not keeping her safe, when she had depended on them, would have been a block in the way big enough to make it out of the question. It would have hurt her, too, as if they hadn't done that work enough.

“Things are gonna start changing soon,” Updraft said. “We'll see it, and they'll grow up with it. It'll be amazing.”

She had to get going, but promised she'd be back again. Skywarp was looking a little tired anyway, a sight Thundercracker hated, so for the moment that was best.

“Nothing changes much in Vos,” he told her. Updraft's optics flickered, with something he couldn't quite catch. Then she grinned.

“The young mechs like me, we'll make that change,” she said. “Well—I hope we will.”

The two weeks were restful. He sent Starscream a picture of Mistral and their date of birth, but heard nothing from him. Mistral relaxed a little about being near their carrier, just enough that the two of them took a short flight and left the newspark with a nurse. Skywarp held his wings higher after that, bumping Thundercracker's shoulder affectionately and clearly benefiting from the exercise. He even teleported once, to prove he could do it again, but the loud purple _CRACK_ was a surprise, and made Mistral cry.

“Oh, I'm sorry, kiddo!” Skywarp had repeated after, as he held them and waited for them to calm. Thundercracker had never seen him look so guilty about his party trick. “I'm sorry! One day you'll think it's as cool as Updraft did.”

Starscream messaged at the end of their last week, as they were getting ready to leave. They both paused, looking at one another, and Thundercracker opened the comm first. Better if Skywarp didn't stress, because it would only be feedback to Mistral (who they were finding recharged when they wanted, and not at reasonable hours).

_Absolutely striking child. Left gifts at your apartment in the spare room. Have missed your presences at my work. Bring them around to see me when you're home._

“Huh,” Skywarp said. Without thinking about it, he was rocking Mistral, brows furrowed in thought. “Nice message. You'd almost think he wasn't Starscream.”

It should have made Thundercracker more suspicious, but maybe he was too pleased, too settled. He'd have to enjoy it while he could. But maybe it made sense for Starscream to soften himself a little, after their last meeting.

And knowing, very well, that Starscream knew what they'd do if he treated Mistral with disrespect. He had no rights to them, trine or not, and that would guarantee their sparklet some respect. They wouldn't be neglected or abused.

Things _would_ be changing.

 


	4. Epilogue: Recruitment Tactics

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Updraft only wants to help.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you SO MUCH to everyone who read this little fic! I'm really excited to be gearing up for the next big piece, which this is really all lead up too and that I've been very excited about posting.
> 
> For anyone wondering about Mistral, they play a pretty important role in the sequel (because if you've read this far you already know you're in OC hell). Thanks again!

It was a bitter cold night.

Flying helped, but only Updraft's thrusters were warm as she touched down outside the old building. It probably wouldn't be much better inside whatever drafty old basement the meeting was in, though the press of frames tired from work might serve to warm the room. But a Guardsmech didn't show that she was too cold, or too hot, or that she was feeling much of anything at all. It was an important part of the job, so they said. Updraft didn't always agree.

Guardsmechs also weren't supposed to show up at clandestine Decepticon meetings. So when Updraft touched down, she allowed herself a shiver.

This wasn't a bad neighbourhood, because those were now thoroughly suspicious. Her colleagues and the police force raided often, looking for miners in groups, or dirty dive bars, or Megatron himself. He had finally dropped that last syllable, because, he said, he was not a god.

Even if some mechs started to treat him like one.

Updraft went around the back, as she'd been instructed. She might have been a little late, with her second shift, but it had been necessary to get out of any dancing or time out with Smokescreen or others. They'd all guess she'd just have taken a little overtime. Those close to her didn't trust her with any Decepticon adventures.

She turned the corner—and there was Soundwave, tall and unnerving as always. She hoped she didn't startle, because his presence was to be expected.

“Good evening, Soundwave,” she said, straightening up. “I'm not late, am I? Work kept me.”

Soundwave turned his head slowly, left to right and back again. Updraft thought she could have liked Soundwave, knowing what she did about him, had he not been so unsettling. She smiled, nodding once to him.

“Thank you. I'm really looking forward to the meeting—“

Soundwave's long arm was in front of her, stopping her from taking another step. Slowly, he shook his faceless head again. Updraft narrowed her optics, confused.

“Is everything alright?” she asked. “The meeting _is_ on, isn't it?”

He nodded. She worked hard to keep looking into his faceless gaze, hoping she seemed at least somewhat unbothered. Soundwave pointed carefully at one of her wings, then the other.

Suddenly she could feel acutely those insignias pressed against her paint, like she'd been branded with iron.

“You know I'm not a Functionist,” she said, straightening up. “Absolutely not. I took this job to make the world better, from inside.”

Soundwave nodded once. Once or twice, she'd heard him speak, a deep voice he obviously modulated, but since Megatron had dropped that fourth syllable he'd been silent. What he had started to do instead was play back clips of others, mechs and media alike.

“ _It sets the wrong example,_ ” said someone on a radio show. Then, from a holovid dramatizing the _Ark-1_ launch: “ _You'll put yourself in danger! Get yourself killed—no, all of us killed!_ ”

For a moment, Updraft bristled, plating ruffling. But—there was a reason she couldn't tell anyone about these things. Not even Breakdown, who listened even more intensely to the broadcasts, Knock Out right there with him. It wasn't a safe place to be.

“You think an Elite Guardsmech will attract the wrong kind of attention, I guess,” Updraft said. Soundwave nodded. She sighed, wings dipping low.

“I...see. I'm sorry to hear that, Soundwave, but I understand. I hope soon things settle down and I can study with you again.”

She was sometimes the only educated mech in the room, though more and more bots from all walks of life appeared to hear Decepticons speak. She was used to being stared at, and hadn't felt the gazes on her in years. It didn't matter, because she was there to help make sure _everyone_ could be educated, if they wanted.

Updraft turned to go. Soundwave's spindly fingers on her wing stopped her, and she turned. “Yes?”

“ _Those comfortable and sympathetic can be incredibly helpful,_ ” Megatron's voice said. She wondered, for a thrilling moment, if this was a message to be passed on. _“But they put us in danger with that pesky respect for authority._ ”

She wasn't entirely sure what to make of that, not even when Soundwave sent a number of datapackets and files her way, neatly labelled “ _TO READ_ ” on her comm. She didn't comment on how effortlessly he had cracked her frequency, and resolved to ask Windjammer about better encryption.

“So there are other ways to help the cause,” Updraft said. Apparently satisfied, Soundwave nodded.

Updraft dared to take a little step forward. “I know you'll answer honestly: this isn't because you completely mistrust me, is it? It's a safety issue, and with this I can help?”

Soundwave stared at her with his faceless gaze. Finally, he nodded again, slowly but firmly. Updraft relaxed, deciding she'd have to be satisfied with that response.

She stood looking at him for a long moment. “I had better be going, then,” she said finally. “All my best to the meeting, Soundwave. And to Megatron.”

Soundwave inclined his head respectfully. There was nothing else to do but turn around, biting down on the disappointment in her spark, and activating her thrusters. Transforming was comforting, as was wind at her wingtips. She'd go home, then—it was too cold to go looking for Smokescreen, wherever he might be partying. Knock Out would be happy enough to see her back early. In the morning, she could visit Mistral and help them pack for their trip home to Vos. The thought made her spark warmer, and made her feel firmer about Soundwave turning her around.

Her insignias could upset people, or put the cause at risk, when she could use them to further the cause elsewhere instead. What if something happened, and they couldn't all go towards peace at all? Mistral's future seemed uncertain enough, when she looked at the curfews and the bombings and the Clampdown's vice grip on Iacon.

Well, she wouldn't have broken curfew that night anyway, but it made her fly home faster. From the ground, she wasn't aware that Soundwave had stayed to watch her go, or that someone had stepped up behind him.

“Earnest little thing, isn't she?” Clawed fingers tapped on the wall of the building. “Gullible, frankly. So deeply mired in this class warfare.”

Soundwave turned sharply, and Starscream held up his hands, placating.

“Oh, relax, you know what I mean. I'm here to _help,_ ” he said. “And so is my dear daughter there.”

Soundwave's look was flat, impressive for a mech whose face was covered and literally static. He didn't like other mechs, exactly, but if he had to choose he'd pick Updraft over Starscream every time. (And that wasn't to say much of a young, untried Seeker who worked for the government. Her carrier was simply that unlikable.)

But though Lord Megatron had great interest in young bots like her, full of potential...he had more interest in her carrier. A powerful, well-educated mech with resources and military clout to spare. There was much he could teach them.

Soundwave suspected Megatron's interests were more _physical_ when it came to Starscream. He had been spending more time around their new, wealthy ally, and nothing he'd felt gave him any indication that this was a mech out for anyone but himself. If Soundwave had the energy to feel sympathy for others (others who weren't Lord Megatron, or his symbiotes, or his little sparklet) he might have felt sorry for Updraft. She was proud of being independent, so grateful not to be pushed and pulled by her carrier's whims. He felt all this, and felt Starscream's icy pleasure at clawing her back to his use.

Sacrifices had to be made. Crooking one finger, Soundwave motioned for Starscream to follow him. The Seeker sniffed, about to say something, but Soundwave quickly opened the door, towards the warm basement full of noise.

Megatron waited, after all.

 


End file.
